


After the Dragonfire

by BlueMonkey, ThornyHedge



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, hobbit - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Modern Retelling, Post-Nuclear War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 141,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMonkey/pseuds/BlueMonkey, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThornyHedge/pseuds/ThornyHedge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1994, the unthinkable happened. Mankind unleashed its most controversial and unspeakable weapon -- Dragonfire missiles. Now, 20 years later, the world is largely a wasteland with small pockets of desperate survivors.</p><p>In modern-day Scotland, a man and his nephew who have spent years hiding in the wilderness, journey to their ancestral home to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild (along with a group of loyal friends). But will they survive the trek through the woods that lies between them and their destination? Is Erebor even worth the trip?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> It's always thrilling posting the first chapter of a new story. We hope you like our post-apocalyptic re-imagining of "The Hobbit." We welcome your comments and criticisms.
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters contained within (except for a handful of original characters) are the intellectual property of J.R.R. Tolkien. 
> 
> Rating will be raised to explicit around chapter... twelve. :)

January 15, 1984

Dear Thranduil,

I know you don't want to talk about what happened when my dad and I visited at Christmas, but I can't stop thinking about it, or you. When I close my eyes, I can smell your skin and feel your hair in my hands. I want to do it again.

I don't have anyone I can talk to about this. Dis would probably laugh at me, and Frerin is too young to understand. I always thought you were sort of annoying, to be honest--but this last time, when you walked through that door the first time after not seeing you for two years...well, the way you looked was like a punch in my gut. 

I wanted to kiss you. Touch you. Maybe more, if you'd let me. And you did. And now I think about it all the time. Especially when I touch myself.

I know I'm only 16 and I'm not supposed to be thinking about finding someone to spend the rest of my life with. Not yet. But right now, when I think about who I'd like to be with...it's you. God, this is crazy, but I had to put it on paper and send it off to you before I lost my nerve.

I look forward to when your family comes to Erebor this summer.

Love,

Thorin

\- - - - -

February 14, 1984

Dear Thranduil,

You didn't answer my letter. I guess I deserve it.

You were just so serious and intense and clingy after we did what we did. And at the time I just thought it was something fun. I didn't realize until after I got home and had time to miss you that it really was a lot more than just a bit of fun. I feel horrible for treating it so casually.

I want to make it up to you. I wish I didn't have to wait until summertime.

Thorin

\- - - - -

March 14, 1984

Thorin,

Apparently the mail has been affected by the recent disturbances too, because I only received your letters this morning. Hopefully this one doesn't take as long to reach you, because you seem worried where there's no cause for it. Though you'll be severely chastised for calling me annoying as soon as we meet again.

We've had fun, Thorin. I continue to think of that encounter these days, often at inappropriate times. Dad thinks it's a girl who's on my mind and he's only too happy to be mentioning that theory to mum when he thinks I don't listen. Thank god he doesn't ask for a name. I'm glad he doesn't, I wouldn't want to be changing your name into a girl's.

I admit, I wouldn't mind more of what we did. I look forward to the time I see you again. It was fun, sure, too good to pass up on. I wouldn't call it anything more yet. But just to be clear, I do want more, and I do expect you to make appearance in my chambers when I'm there in a few months. 

Let's just hope these disturbances calm down. They trouble me.

Sincerely,

Thranduil

\- - - - -

April 22, 1984

Dear Thranduil,

What can I do to prove to you how sorry I am about how I behaved at Christmas? I only made fun of you and what we did because that dreadful Elrond caught us kissing. I've seen how boys who like other boys get treated and it's not good. I didn't want that to happen to you...and, if I have to be selfish, I didn't want it to happen to me. 

I miss you. I think about what we did every night before I go to bed. As you can imagine, I also like to touch myself when I do--exactly how you touched me. It never feels quite as good, though. 

In six weeks, it'll be summer holiday. I plan to spend it with you in Caledonia. Can you at least write back and let me know if I'm welcome?

This silence is awful.

Thorin

P.S. I think someone is intercepting and maybe even reading our mail. Maybe we need to be careful what we say.

\- - - - -

April 29, 1984

Dear Thorin,

Finally, a letter that's not delayed. But did you not get my other message at all?

Dad says that a bad storm is brewing. He should know, he has some contacts in the government. I am not at ease, and I fear it might be a long time before we see each other again.

Of course you're welcome. I just hope I'm wrong about all of this. Not you, definitely not you. God, stop talking like that, or I'm really going to miss you and those hands of yours. It's been nearly half a year, it shouldn't still be on my mind this much.

Leave a message to tell me you've received this one. A phone call would do. You wouldn't have to say anything, and nobody listening in would be able to tell what it's about, but I'll know.

Seriously. Let me know.

Thranduil

\- - - - -

May 4, 1984

Thranduil,

I'm afraid if I call you, I'll just stumble over my words. I like to think ahead of time and write things down.

Father also talks about "bad things" happening around the world, but when I get too close or ask questions, he changes the subject. My friend Dwalin's big brother is a professor at the university and he was recently called to Edinburgh as a consultant on some mechanized weapons there. The nuclear kind. After what happened at that plant in Pennsylvania a few years ago, "nuclear" has been sort of a bad word. My science teacher says it's actually very useful stuff, and it's only dangerous if used that way by bad people.

But Balin (the professor) says that nuclear war would be dangerous. They are developing these weapons called Dragonfire missiles. Believe it or not, one of the chief investors is that awful Smaug character. I guess he has a lot to benefit by seeing the world end.

But that's too far away and far-fetched to think about. There's problems right here in Erebor that are demanding more and more of Father's time. There's a politician (and Father says that term is applied very loosely) named Azog who has been trying to worm his way into favor and get people to riot in the streets, that sort of thing. He's a scary man...huge, and he's albino. I don't like the way he looks at me.

Did you read about what happened at that restaurant in Aberdeen? All those people shot--even kids and old people. I keep having nightmares about it and you and me are there eating and the shooter just comes in. Father and Mother were talking about it and I heard them mention that Smaug is a suspect--that one of the victims was a rival.

I haven't been sleeping much. 

But I feel so much better since you wrote back. Miss you so much and can't wait for our visit.

Love,

Thorin

\- - - - -

October 16, 1986

Thorin,

The days are getting shorter again. I am sorry I could not write back until now. I received your message on time, but things have been difficult here. So many refugees from your area, yet not you. Nobody was willing to deliver my message for me. I cannot blame them. I can only assume you are still there. What happened? We heard about the great fire in the mines. I've kept a close watch on the names to make sure none of your family was involved.

I cannot put everything on paper. The chance that someone else gets a hold of this letter is too big. Nobody is advised to travel to Erebor these days, but meet me here as soon as you can. We need to talk.

Thranduil

\- - - - -

November 11, 1986

Hello Thranduil,

Dis met a man and they have married. I haven't written of it, and I'm sorry. His name's Vili. Father, of course, isn't very fond of him because he doesn't come "from money." But he's certainly very good looking and strong, and he's crazy about my sister. 

Things have been tense here. Balin says the threat of Dragonfire is greater than ever. 

Father and Azog had another public confrontation the other day and it was very threatening. I was never really worried about my dad being hurt before. But the fire in the mines was clearly an attack on him. He was supposed to be there that day, but ended up cancelling because another matter sprang up in town.

I'd hate to think that any politician is capable of physically hurting another, especially over things like policies. But with everything else going on in the world (the threat of war/Balin's bombs, etc) people are stepping out of their normal behavior and becoming bolder...and stupider.

I wish I had been bolder last time we saw each other. I'm sure you know what I mean.

Thorin

\- - - - -

August 12, 1989

Mr. Durin,

Do I call you Mr. Durin? Thorin? It has been a long time, and I have lost the sense to be able to tell whether we can talk to each other familiarly, or if formality is better suited. Last time we spoke, things were different.

I finally met your sister a few days ago. She implored me to send you a message, and so here I am. She told me she is with child. It worries me that you're not with her, but I am glad someone else is with her to keep her safe. What is happening? There was another explosion in the mines, like the one a couple of years ago, and there's something in the air. Smaug's men are seen where they should not be. Disturbing messages of tests in remote regions reach us. Father is considering closing the woods off to anyone but his own people.

But I do not send you a message to tell you my concerns, big as they are. It has been years. How have you been doing? I want to know about you.

Sincerely,

Thranduil

\- - - - -

September 15, 1989

Thranduil,

Call me what you want. No familiarity, or lack of it, can make up for the fact that I have lost you. We promised we'd be together. We promised we wouldn't give into our fathers' collective pushing for us to get married and have children--that we'd run away together and be happy.

But you didn't keep up your end of the bargain.

I don't know what hurts more: that you got married, or that I had to read about it in the Sunday papers as if you just another person. 

I thought that heartbreak was fanciful stuff from bad movies, but when I saw you pictured alongside her, my heart simply cracked and there's been a painful ache in my chest and a darkness in my life ever since.

I hope she brings you happiness. I'm sorry I could not.

Thorin

\- - - - -

November 8, 1989

Thorin,

I hhad not heard from you in three years. I did not think I ever would. Would you have appreciated me breaking radio silence only to tell you that circumstances demanded I move on? Or would you have made me regret it even more? Pray that this letter never makes it into her hands, because she doesn't deserve to read what I've just committed to paper and will never mention again. She is a good person. I am sorry.

Thranduil

\- - - - -

December 1, 1989

Thranduil,

My father and little brother were murdered three years ago. It's suspected that one of the previous culprits we'd discussed were to blame. I've been very busy with helping mother and my sister keep the business and the town going. I know I've been very remiss in talking to you, but I was afraid any contact with you would put you in danger.

You clearly mistook my silence for no longer loving you. I suppose I deserve that. But it's not the truth.

I hope what you have found brings you happiness and that your son grows up to be like his father. 

I will never marry, nor will I ever love another. My heart aches for my brother and for the love you and I once had.

Thorin

\- - - - -

December 18, 1989

Thorin, 

I hate to ask you this so bluntly, but was it love we had? We seemed to fall into each other's beds quite readily and I admit that there was something there, but love takes time to grow. We never had that time.

I am truly sorry to hear about your father and your brother.

Listen, I feel terrible writing to you about this. Can we talk? Before everything goes to shit, because I can feel in my bones that something terrible is about to happen, can we talk? In person?

Thranduil

\- - - - -

January 7, 1990

Thranduil,

I loved you, and I love you still. Maybe it was all just concocted in my fantasies and this is all for the best, because I was clearly delusional.

I don't think I can see you. I don't think I want to. Not now. I'm barely holding it together and seeing you will only make it worse.

You need to focus on your family and your town. Bad things are coming. If the Dragonfire comes, it's for certain that my home will be a target. You may just see me again yet as I pass through, a refugee.

Thorin

\- - - - -

April 21, 1994

Dear Thorin,

I know you told me you didn't want to talk, and I apologize for contacting you now. I don't even know if this will reach you, as I heard that a Dragonfire missile took out half of Erebor. 

I have no desire to break your heart further. I'm afraid though that the news I bring you will do so regardless.

A few days ago we came across a farm. In it, we found your brother-in-law. Unfortunately, I cannot bring you the news that he survived.

In his company was little Fili. The men weren't sure, but Legolas recognized him at once. He wasn't doing well when we found him, having not had food or water for several days. He was also badly burned, but we took him in and he's starting to cope. We are doing what we can, Thorin, but we are not his family, and he needs his mother. Could you please come for him and return him to Dis?

Kind regards,

Thranduil

\- - - - -

_Dis' diary entry -- July 9, 1994_

My baby boy, Kili, is two weeks old today. This the first time since the bombs fell that I've had time to sit down in relative safety and write.

Vili and Fili were killed when the bombs fell. I feel it in my heart--an emptiness. They never returned to Erebor. I'd like to hope that somehow Vili made the decision to stay with Thranduil in Caledonia. But I know him. He didn't. And now they are lost to me.

Now Thorin and I are starting over on the road with what belongings we were able to carry. We're traveling into the countryside in hopes of finding an empty building in which to live. Thankfully my milk is up and Kili has something to eat. Thorin and I haven't been quite as lucky.

We've seen a lot of death and people violently sick and dying from the fallout. My lungs have been burning off and on, but I'm hoping it's only temporary. I think we got away in time. I hope we did.

Thorin is a shell of himself. He blames himself for the deaths of our father and brother, and now for the death of my husband and son. I hope he finds a way of forgiving himself or I'm afraid I'm going to lose him too.

I'll write as much as I can when we have time. Even candlelight is precious now. 

I hope we can fix the world for you, Kili.


	2. The Journal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her deathbed, Dis sends her son and brother on a very important quest.

**_Scotland, present day_**

Darkness fell, a blanket of shadows and silence.

Not so many years ago, things had been different. The stars wouldn't have been so visible. These days they were a rain of speckles in the sky, giant cosmic clouds against the indigo of the universe. But years ago, when things had still been normal, that would not have been the case. City lights would have drowned them out and always somehow kept the sky alight, even at night. Then the war had come and things had changed, and now when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, it was no longer the start of a time of possibility, but one of fear.

They all knew fire; they were all afraid to use it, unless they were in a group of many. 

But out here the only groups of many were the gangs.

Although several trees hid the small cottage—a humble memory of the past—from sight, and several domesticated wolves guarded the place well, no fire warmed the hearth of the house. The windows were barricaded and the door trapped. This place belonged to someone, and nobody would take it from them.

"I can scout," a stubborn voice said.

"The wolves can scout," replied an older. "You stay inside until first dawn."

"Uncle, come on. There hasn't been anyone in months."

"Exactly. The chance get bigger with every passing night."

A groan sounded, laced with impatience. "I'm hungry. Mom's hungry. You can't tell me you're not hungry as well. Hoot can hunt. A clawed up rat is better than nothing. Just let me out. This is pointless."

"Kili."

The single warning shut the younger voice up. The young man kicked at something in the dark—a thud, but nothing broke—and then there were footsteps up the stairs, followed by the loud bang of a door being thrown shut.

Thorin sighed. Every day was the same.

"He should have been in university," he whispered. "Getting drunk, having fun. Maybe even learning something." Not this.

Across the makeshift table from him, his sister smiled wearily at the image. "This is all he knows, Thorin. Don't mourn for what he'll never have." She coughed then, and the sound was wet and raspy. It hadn't improved in past days despite her assurances that it would. "We should worry about what we _can_ change. Tell me more about your plans to return to Erebor," she entreated in an attempt to take her mind off her gnawing hunger and the tightness in her chest.

"Plans," scoffed Thorin at the thought. " _Dreams._ Even one night out in the open can be deadly, and Erebor is weeks away on foot. Though it would be..." He trailed off as he recalled the days when they had lived there. The war hadn't come yet, then, and things had been good. He sighed. "The land is starting to get better. I saw a few sprouts this morning, near the old trees. Maybe it'll recover after all. I wonder how Erebor lies. The air was foul when we left. Nothing could live there. Sometimes I wonder."

"What you need to do, brother," she sat forward with renewed interest, "is surround yourself with a tight group of experts. That's what we would have done in the days before the Dragonfire to solve a problem. You need to find yourself a botanist. A farmer, renowned for his skills. Perhaps even now there's someone out there growing things and we don't know about it. Surely you've heard the rumors about Bag End."

Thorin laughed without humor. Above them they heard the shuffling of a man taking off his shoes and going to bed. He had told Kili every night not to do that. They never knew when they needed to run. "Bag End! Bag End is a Shangri-La, Dis. Green rolling hills, a man growing healthy vegetables in his garden. It's a dream. Look where we are. There's nothing but gritty ground and dead bush for miles around. The fallout destroyed it all. If Bag End exists and it is truly as magnificent as they say, then others will have found and laid waste to it." He could not share his sister's hopes, though he wanted to. "But we cannot stay here much longer either."

"Rumors exist for a reason," Dis pulled her ratty colorless sweater tighter around her bony shoulders. "Surely the Dragonfire didn't fall everywhere. Surely there are places that were spared. Why not make Bag End your first stop? It's only a week's walk or so to the south."

A long silence fell between them. In the dark, there was little light to know what either of them were thinking. Communication tended to be reduced to feeling or sounds in the night. It was because of that that both of them understood Kili's sentiment easier than they understood each other's.

"I won't leave you to the likes of bandits," Thorin said at last, and that was the end of the discussion.

Dis reached for her brother's hand. "It's not the bandits that will be the death of me, Thorin," she squeezed. "And when my body is in the ground, I want my last thought to have been that you've packed up our belongings and have taken Kili away from here, to reclaim our ancestral home."

A big and roughly calloused hand covered her own. "I won't leave you here. I won't do it. I'll hunt tomorrow and I'll not return until I found enough to feed you for days. I'll take Kili. He always knows where to go." Softness returned to Thorin's voice. "You just need more food."

"You're a good man, big brother," Dis smiled gently, "and a kind one, although you'd be happy to have everyone believe the opposite. You know damn well that what I need are antibiotics—and the supply of those is long used up or hoarded away by men of power. The best I can do is hope to come out the other side of this alive. Kili sees you as a father, Thorin. The only one he's ever known. Take him south, then east to our home. Maybe, if God is smiling on you, you'll find Vili and Fili's graves along the way and you can tell him about them."

"Oh, sister dear. If I knew where to find those graves, I would take him around them for miles. He doesn't need that on top of everything else. I'm not going. I'll find you whatever you need and we'll get you better."

\- - - - -

Thorin and Kili did manage to bring home a wild turkey the next afternoon. They cooked it and ate it over a two-day period with some mushrooms.

Dis did not get better. By the end of the week she was in bed, wheezing with a high fever. "I need to speak with Kili," she told Thorin, eyes glittering. 

Thorin reluctantly went up to his room and knocked on the door. Kili's room was his safe haven. It was littered with posters of bands from decades ago. There was an electric guitar in the corner, without amp nor electricity, and in front of the window hung several wooden wind chimes. Kili didn't like it when others came in. It was where he could return to his childhood for a while, when things had been different. Thorin and Dis respected those bounds. When the door was closed, he generally really needed to be left alone.

"Yeah?" called Kili from within. 

That was Thorin's cue. He found him flat on the bed, one knee and the foot of his other bopping along to unheard music. On his chest he balanced a hardcover book that had seen better days. Kili was looking up at Thorin though, his lips pursed. "She's not good, is she? We ate so well last few days."

"I'm afraid she isn't," Thorin said softly. Kili had never seen his uncle looking so defeated. "She's asking for you, Kili."

Kili put his book aside immediately and went downstairs.

Dis tried to smile for her boy—the boy who had been her only son for so, so long. "I need you to make me a promise, Kili," she asked him, taking his hand into her own too warm one.

Kili wanted to shake his head and deny her that. He wanted to tell her to just stay alive and make sure he did what she wanted him to do in person. They both knew that was not in the stars, however, and so he suppressed the lump in his throat that had his eyes watering up and nodded. Her words had a sense of finality that he wasn't ready for. "What is it?"

"You've been robbed," she told him, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it. "This war, the Dragonfire, the desolation—it stole your childhood; stole your youth. You've missed out on some of the most important things in a young man's life. And I missed out on them too." Dis waited a moment, wheezing until she regained her breath. "I'm not going to live to see you fall in love, Kili. But I know you will. You're so kind, and so brave. It's only a matter of time. Things will be rebuilt, and you will be part of it. I want you to promise me you'll follow your heart. And I want you to promise me you'll help keep your uncle motivated to move on and move up. I will be watching you, even when you think I'm not."

Kili couldn't say no, regardless of him not having seen a person his own age—or at least suitable—in years. Strangers hardly came to the cottage, most likely because nobody trusted each other anymore, and those that had been invited in had been either broken families or older people who could not pose a threat. "Of course," he said instead, squeezing her hand. "When I meet someone, I'll tell all about you."

He frowned though. Thorin would be head of the house after her, and there was no further place up. "You have plans for him, haven't you?" he asked. Kili preferred that she kept her strength, but he valued every second he could talk to her nonetheless. The fallout had found its way into Dis before they had been able to get away from it. She was being poisoned without there being a thing they could do about it. Kili smiled for her sake. "You do. Tell me. I promise you, he'll do you proud."

"Top drawer of the cabinet over there," Dis pointed in the direction of where she kept her meager belongings. "I have a journal. Names of people we knew...good families..." here she paused for breath, "people to travel with you. There's also old clippings about the coming war. You should read them. Thorin didn't want you to, but you should. I want you to," she wheezed, "want you to find our former home. Plant trees and vegetables. Start commerce. Get the world going again, Kili."

"That's a lot you're asking me," Kili tried to joke, hoping that maybe his mother would smile for him once more. He would get the papers on his way out. Leaving his mother for a second was difficult. "You mean, leave this place. I've never been to Erebor. I thought it fell a few weeks before I was born. I don't think plants will grow if that place is anything like everywhere else." He kissed her on her forehead. "I promise you, I'll at least take him there to find out if it's possible. Dad is still there. It's a good time to visit him." With a lump in his throat, Kili sat back. "I'll make you the best meal I can tonight. Don't go anywhere, please."

As soon as he was out the door, he pressed a hand before his mouth. She was dying. It was a matter of days, and he prayed that he wasn't wrong and it would be only hours. In silence did he walk to the kitchen and start gathering pots and pans.

The cottage was their only safe haven, and it was certainly safer than what most others had, but they were to leave it soon. If the property named Erebor would be a futile expedition, then they would undoubtedly come back to others having taken possession of the cottage and made it theirs. A part about that was terrifying. Another part longed to go outside and see what the world had become. Kili was a good enough hunter. Thorin had a sword. In a world where the industrial production of bullets had been stopped and the art of casting them yourself lost except for only a few, their sword and bow could be sufficient.

Still. This was home.

Kili took to making the best meal that he could. The journal was in his inside pocket, and would not be addressed until Kili absolutely had to.

\- - - - -

Dis was cold, stiff in her bed in the morning. She had died during the night, somewhere between midnight and dawn, but on her face was a soft smile. It was as if in the end she had realized a long-held dream—or perhaps seen the face of God. She was one of the only people Kili knew who still believed in the concept of a divine Father after what the world had put the through. If anyone deserved to see Him, it was his mother.

Bodies were rarely buried anymore, instead burned to prevent contagion. As such, a shovel was hard to come by. Thorin knew there was one in their cottage's storage room. He would bury his sister in the old ways, new practices be damned.

Tears streamed from his eyes as he dug beneath the leafless tree in their backyard. The dirt did not budge at first, almost as hard as asphalt and a gritty powder blew away as he cracked the surface. He had Kili loosen some of it with a pick until it gave way, slowly, while Thorin dug a hole deep enough to protect his sister's body from even the most persistent hungry animals or people.

He noticed as he got about five feet down that the earth was brown and moist, and smelled the way he remembered it. Thorin recalled then what Dis had told him about her dreams of Bag End. He leaned on the shovel for support. There was nothing left to lose anymore but Kili, now that she was gone. And he would lose Kili soon if he didn't act. Every day he could see the boy wasting away, turning further inside himself.

When the depth was proper, Thorin climbed out of the hole with Kili's assistance and stood back. "It's time," he told his nephew.

Kili shook his head. "A minute more," he whispered hoarsely. If he tried, he could still pretend she was asleep. She could have been cold in her sleep.

But the minute passed too fast, and when earth started to cover his mother's pale skin and she was leaving them for the peace underground that had not come to her in her living years, Kili cried.

As soon as the hole was filled, he needed to get away from it. The sight of the mound of darker soil made him sick. Kili took his bow and disappeared. Only around twilight did he return to the cottage and, in the middle of the night, he snuck out against the rules and stacked the most beautiful stones he could find on a pile just above where her head was, six feet deep.

Upon his return, he sat down in the dark of the living room with tears in her eyes.

"She wanted us to leave," he spoke in the silence.

"I know," Thorin's voice came from the darkened corner where he sat. A precious match was struck, illuminating his wan face. He rarely smoked his pipe anymore—tobacco was terribly hard to come by—but he had saved just a bit at the bottom of his well worn pouch for special occasions. "Your mother thinks we need to travel south to Bag End. She thinks we can find a farmer there and save the world." Thorin's breath hitched. "I meant to say, she _thought._ Dis had grandiose ideas, Kili. You'd be best served not to fall prey to that optimism. It'll set you up for disappointment."

"She was one of the few optimists left," said Kili, "and I'm happy that she was." He breathed in. For a while they only heard the occasional hoot of Kili's owl outside. At least someone was getting enough food. "I don't want to look at her grave every time I step outside. South doesn't sound so bad."

"If you're expecting it to be warmer there, it won't be. Scotland's going to be suffering from a perpetual state of winter for some time. At least, that's what the scientists said before the bombs fell. We can't say we weren't warned. In the morning, when there's enough light," Thorin said, "how about we look at your mother's journal together?"

"Okay."

Kili chewed on a small straw. He thought it over, how it would be to leave this place behind. It could get better. It could also get a lot worse. "How are you feeling?" he asked at last.

"Like I just lost my best friend," Thorin said softly. It was dark now, and Kili couldn't see his face. The last of the tobacco was gone. "Dis was the light in this house, and now it's gone out. Get a good night's sleep, Kili. Tomorrow we'll try to make sense of my sister's plans."

Without another word, Thorin got up, checked the locks on both doors, and went upstairs.

\- - - - - 

The journal creaked when Kili opened it. It was filled almost three quarters of the way through, with the first entry dated twenty years earlier. The entries were sporadic—some every day for weeks at a time. Then, nothing for years.

A list of names was written on the final page of Dis' journal, in blotchy brackish ink on old paper. He turned a questioning look at his uncle.

Thorin remembered most of these men. Some of them he'd known before the war. Others he had met as they traveled and Kili was still very young.

Thorin Durin - leader(?)  
Kili Durin – hunter, scout  
Oin Roinson - doctor  
Gloin Roinson- engineer  
Balin Fundinson - professor  
Dwalin Fundinson - policeman  
Ori Morison - tailor, writer  
Dori Morison - former mayor  
Nori Morison - ? (smuggler?)  
Bifur (?) - injured now, but was once an architect  
Bofur (brother of Bombur, never found out their last name) – some sort of artist  
Bombur (?) - chef  
Gandalf - wizard with electronics  
Farmer from Bag End?

"We're to find _all_ of these men?" Kili laughed incredulously while looking at the list. "They are all miles away—more if we're not lucky. I don't know half of them. I thought it was a few people we know, and then the farmer from Bag End. Uncle, this is impossible."

"I know nearly all of them, and where to find them," Thorin told him. "I went to university with Dwalin. He's a good man. And his brother—a brilliant man. A professor of nuclear physics. He initially worked on the Dragonfire project, then stepped down when he realized how destructive they were going to be. He then spoke out against chemical warfare when it was being considered. No one listened to him, but look at us now. I grew up next door to Dori and his brothers. They're our distant cousins. I believe Ori would be about your age."

At this news, Kili's head shot up, and Thorin saw a fire there that he hadn't seen in years. Hope.

"The others—Gandalf, Bombur, Bofur—we met while traveling," he continued. "If they haven't relocated, I know where to find them. It was a rough journey, Kili. Back then, a man would kill you so he could eat your dog and steal your radio. It's far worse now. Are you sure you want to do this?" 

"Someone my age," Kili repeated the other man's words. "And cousins. That means we can trust them." He turned to Thorin. "They all sound like trustworthy men, especially if they're on mum's list. Why have we never gone to look for them before?" He rose to look out the window. The world was so small, so familiar and unchanging. People came by now and then, but the only thing that it brought them was fear.

"We need to go," he decided. "Who lives closest to us? We need to at least try." Already he was wondering about Ori. Maybe they liked the same things. They could have fun, make a campfire without being afraid for once, just to share stories. Thorin was a good man, but Kili hadn't exactly been able to laugh much in his presence. It would be good for him too. "Tomorrow, all right? We make plans today, we try to gather some food. Then we could leave tomorrow."

"I'm sure this seems like a grand adventure," Thorin cautioned. "It could well be ...until we're set upon by bandits, robbed, raped and killed. Or, worse yet, left to starve or be eaten ourselves. I've seen such horrors, Kili," Thorin stroked his beard thoughtfully. But _what if?_ "Balin and Dwalin live closest. Two villages away. About twelve miles."

"We're just sitting ducks here. Nothing happens. Every day is the same. That's not even survival, because at least in survival you hope for better days. We do it. Twelve miles should be doable if we leave before dawn."

They were both aware that it would be a tough trek, especially if they ran into strangers. There was a chance they wouldn't make it until well past nightfall. But they wouldn't have to sleep out in the open, fodder for bandits, as long as they had strength left to keep walking.

Kili's eyes were, for the first time in ages, gleaming with hope. "Maybe she's right. Maybe there is something better out there."

At that moment, Kili reminded Thorin so much of his younger brother Frerin that it was a punch to the gut. Frerin, who had turned out to be quite the liberal hippie despite their father ruling the roost with an iron fist, had been killed in a protest in the mines of Erebor years before Kili was born. Ironically, his father had been killed the same day. It was one of the few times Frerin and his father had gotten along, if only for a few hours. Frerin had always had that same fire that possessed Kili now in his eyes. 

Thorin was suddenly filled with a profound sadness. "I don't want to sentence you to death, Kili. At least here we can control our fates. Out there," he gestured with his thumb, "we could die. I've lost so much already. I cannot bear to lose you too."

Kili understood that. Thorin was all he had had, aside from his mother. He closed the journal. "You wouldn't. But we're slowly running out of food here. Mum's had nearly everything last few months because there wasn't enough for all of us. Besides," he looked Thorin in the eye, "you did train me well. Whoever thinks of robbing us won't be prepared for what hits them." He turned and took out one of the sketchbooks Dis had pilfered from the city a long time ago, opened it and pushed it towards Thorin. "Can you draw a map?"

"I can try," Thorin took the precious pencil and paper. From the back of Dis' journal, he produced a map of the United Kingdom as it had looked before the war. "The shape of the land hasn't changed, but country and city lines have," he said, running a finger longingly over the paper, pausing near Erebor, the land of his younger years. "We're here," he said, sweeping his finger towards the left hand side of the map. "If you give me a few moments, I can draw all the spots where I remember last seeing everyone on the list."

The world around them expanded with every mark on the paper. Kili had never thought it to be that big. He sat watching in amazement as their own territory surrounding the cottage suddenly became smaller and smaller, until it was just a dot on the map.

Somewhere out there were other people. Old friends. People they could trust.

Maybe it was best to start with a few of them first.

"Uncle," Kili grinned when Thorin was done. "I think mum would want us to do this. _I_ want to do this."

Thorin nodded resolutely. "So be it then," he said. It was hard for Kili's enthusiasm not to become contagious. "I can think of no better way to honor her memory. Let us spend the evening packing up what we feel we should take with us. We need to travel light, Kili. We'll leave at first light."

_I'm insane,_ Thorin thought to myself. _I'm leading us to our deaths._

But the smile on Kili's face made the thought of dying on the road a little easier to bear.


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Kili depart on their journey to Erebor. Their first stop is the home of Dwalin and Balin.

Morning came early for Thorin and Kili. They both were still sleep-muddled when they set out; Kili had been awake all night, haunted by a newfound hope, and Thorin had not been able to sleep for similar reasons.

Laden with whatever they could carry that wouldn't weigh them down, they went outside. At the bottom of the hill, Kili turned around and took a last look at the house and the pile of rocks next to it. It was a bitter good-bye. "We'll come back here after everything," he said to himself. He knew that they wouldn't. He just felt better saying it.

Thorin didn't touch Kili often. That had been different, of course, when the boy was still a baby and small child, but over time affection had just petered out. But now he put an arm around his nephew's slim shoulders.

"We _will_ come back to visit her," he assured him. "She'd be proud of what we're doing today, Kili."

"Yeah," smiled Kili. He took a last look and turned to the map. When he was young, his mother had taught him how to navigate the world based on the sun and the stars. He looked up now and pointed down. "Let's go."

The first hours, both were optimistic. Used to short distance treks as they were, neither Kili nor Thorin had trouble keeping up. But, at the sun's zenith, they both started to need water, and their progress became slower after that. They scarcely allowed themselves to rest. Then there was that moment, after several hours on the road, when they had heard voices and sped up their pace, all the while trying to leave no tracks.

At around five in the afternoon, they were only halfway to their destination. Kili frowned at the map. He held it up in front of the road they were walking. "It doesn't make sense. You are sure this was where we had to go?"

Troubled by their lack of progress himself, Thorin took the map in his hands and squinted at the sun setting behind them. "It's possible we could have gone off course. It's been some time since I was on this road. The road itself had been virtually absent at several places along the way. "That tree over there," he pointed at the crooked oak, "it looks very familiar. As if we've been here before. Is it possible we've gone in a circle?"

Kili stared at his uncle. "You can't be serious. It'll be dark soon!" The sky was overcast and navigating wasn't easy, but he had assumed Thorin had been sure about where to go. "You're at least somewhat familiar with this land, are you? Are there good places to stop, in case we don't make it today?"

"It does look like rain," Thorin scanned the horizon. "But if we had to sleep outside, we could. It wouldn't be the first time. You spent a good portion of your youth sleeping under the stars, and you turned out just fine."

Kili nodded and looked around for any foliage that could break the rainfall before it hit their oilskins. He remembered the old days of spending time outside the house at night. Those had been different times. His mother had always born the scars on her heart of having lost her husband—Kili's father—too soon, but out in the wilderness, she still frequently smiled. Maybe, he thought in retrospect, it had been for him that she had tried. Kili missed her incredibly.

"There," he pointed at a gully. "That could work. Nobody would see us if we used the ferns to cover us up. Or do you want to walk some more before we find shelter?" He looked at the map again. With a feeling of near helplessness he realized that Kili had no clue where they were. If Thorin and he got separated, Kili would be lost. "Hey," he said suddenly, quieter, "if we lose each other, what then?"

Kili did not miss the look of utter terror that flashed, albeit briefly, over Thorin's features. "If I fall, Kili, you keep going. Find Dwalin and his brother. Find the rest. Do as your mother asked. These are good men, skilled men..." his voice trailed off. "Blast it all," he muttered. "Everything we've been taught about moss growing on the north sides of trees! Fat lot of good it does us when there is no moss. There are so many clouds we can barely see the sun—only make an educated guess as to its position. I'm exhausted, Kili. I haven't had this much exercise in years, I'm ashamed to say. My feet hurt. Let's sleep, and start out fresh at first light."

"Yes, but..."

One look at Thorin was enough though. He looked older than he had in years. _Worn._ Kili tried to lighten the mood. "You're a little out of practice," he smiled. "It'll get better. How about we try to find some food and if we do, that's where we'll rest?"

There wasn't any game in the neighborhood, as it turned out. Another hour had the first drops of rain falling, while the hunt hadn't provided them with any spoils. Kili sat down in the most secluded area he could find. He sighed. "At least we won't have to walk that bit tomorrow." He waited until Thorin joined him before making himself a little more comfortable, half secluded from the rain. "Mum said something about this place called Bag End. Does it really exist?"

"Well," Thorin pulled a hood up over his hair, "it's not called Bag End. Not really. It used to be a small village in a valley between two mountains, so they say. The real name's been forgotten by everyone except those who live there. Rumors say the people there are living underground, and that they've figured out how to grow vegetables again. Vegetables that are safe to eat."

Thorin groaned as his knees popped when he bent them. "This trip will be the death of me," he told Kili, "if you aren't first."

He was asleep nearly before he lay down.

Kili kept watch from that moment on. He found a comfortable spot not far away where he could see both Thorin and their surroundings. It wasn't a perfect shelter from the drizzle that continued to fall all evening, but at least it was a safe place where nobody could spot them.

That was a good thing too, for at nightfall he thought he heard noises from the North. As soon as he focused on the sound, he saw them—a group of three shadows. They were talking in hushed voices amongst each other, clearly in disagreement about something. They were headed their direction.

Quiet as a mouse did he reach for his bow and notched the arrow. It was a proper arrow, with a metal shaft and a titanium tip, part of a set of three that he wanted to keep a set. He always recovered them after the hunt and cleaned them thoroughly. They were invaluable to him. If he didn't have them, he would have to start making arrows himself, and Kili was not quite good enough with fletching and chipping parts off stones to willingly go back to the Stone Age if he could help it. Even if he could, they would never be as sharp.

He kept that arrow aimed at the three travelers until they passed out of sight. The bowstring trembled under his shaking hand. But when they’d left, he relaxed. They hadn't seemed like bad news. Still, Thorin didn't need to know about them. He would probably only want to turn around and go back to the cottage.

Kili looked at his uncle. He breathed out in relief. His uncle was dead to the world, but peaceful. He hadn't noticed a thing.

Thorin awoke at dawn, amazed about having been able to sleep outdoors so long. It must have been the fresh air. He stretched and his joints cracked noisily, much to the amusement of Kili, who sat nearby nursing a small campfire. The smoke was acrid due to the poor quality of the kindling. 

"You should have woken me to take a partial watch," Thorin scolded his nephew. "Did you get any rest at all?" 

"Nope," grinned Kili. "I'm young. Not tired, but I'm calling dibs on the first round of sleep as soon as we make it to your friends." His adrenaline had kept him up all night, and he'd passed his crash already. "But maybe twenty minutes would be nice. Can we wait twenty minutes?"

Thorin nodded, turning around and walking a few feet away to empty his bladder. "Did you see anyone on the road last night?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Travelers," Kili said back with such ease that he hoped it wouldn't stress Thorin out. He found himself a moderately comfortable position and closed his eyes. "Passed us by."

Thorin respected Kili's need for sleep, silently berating himself for not hearing the travelers and waking up. Truth be told, the previous day's travel had been unexpectedly hard on him. His body was unaccustomed to the exertion, and neither of them were particularly well fed. With that thought, his stomach gave a betraying growl. He reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew some dried squirrel meat he'd been saving.

Chewing thoughtfully, he leaned back against a tree to watch the road, their map open on his lap.

They spent a lot longer than twenty more minutes in that place. When Kili finally awoke and looked at the sky, he groaned and quickly got up. "We have to go," he said before having had a single bite for breakfast. "We need to make it before night, today. Let's go."

His empty stomach was quick to correct him. Kili winced. He grabbed a small strip of dried meat, making sure to take small bites with plenty of time in between to sate his hunger, and waited for Thorin to join him.

"While you were sleeping, I figured out where we went wrong yesterday," Thorin pointed out a spot on the map. "The roads have changed a bit in the past eighteen years since we traveled them," he confessed sheepishly. "I won't make the same mistake again. And I found a stream about a hundred yards from the road. I drank some about an hour ago and I'm still alive. I figure it's as good a place as any to fill our water bottles."

After they had replenished their supply of water, they followed the path according to Thorin's new directions. The water had a bit of a tang to it, it turned out, but in a world that was polluted by radioactive waste, it could have been far worse. The water was refreshing enough.

A drizzle of rain descended from the sky as they walked the path up another foothill, then down. The environment made no appearance of flattening out like the stories that Kili had grown up with. Somewhere, he knew, there were flat midlands, grassy meadows unlike the highlands in which he had grown up.

He yawned several times. Finally, nearing the end of the afternoon, a small bump appeared on the horizon, slowly filling out into a house. Kili perked up. "Is that it?"

Thorin squinted into the distance, and the corners of his mouth began to lift. "Yes," he said, when he was certain. "But be on your guard. Just because Dwalin used to live here doesn't mean he still does. Keep your head, Kili."

The two drew closer to the cottage, which appeared remarkably cozy. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney and they could smell something cooking as they approached.

Thorin rapped three sharp knocks at the door, and then they waited.

"They don't look very afraid of bandits," whispered Kili to Thorin. He stilled when he realized that maybe it was because the people living in the hut could be bandits themselves.

Kili didn't have the time to voice that, though. A shadow peered through a dirty window, assessing the strangers, and then the door swung open, revealing a burly, towering man with a bald head, thick beard and twinkling eyes.

"Bless my beard," grinned the man, "Thorin! How long that has been!" His eyes fell on Kili. "Is this the little rug rat?"

"He's not so little anymore, I'm afraid," Thorin chuckled. "Dwalin, this is Kili, my nephew. You're a sight for sore eyes, friend!" he embraced the taller man, clapping him so heartily on the back that dust flew.

"What's all this noise?" an older man with white hair and a threadbare grey cardigan sweater came from the other room. A pair of glasses perched on his nose, carefully taped together at one corner. "As I live and breathe! Thorin!" he grinned. "We thought we'd seen the last of you. And this must be little Kili, all grown up."

From behind Thorin, Kili stood positively baffled. These were no bandits. In fact, they looked like wonderfully friendly people, who had lived only a day away from them for years. They weren't visitors like the other people he had met, and neither did he hope did they view Thorin and himself as temporary. For the first time in years, he stood before people who could be friends.

"Have we met?" he wondered. They acted like they had seen him when he was younger, but he couldn't remember. Realizing his impoliteness, he smiled nervously. "You know me, but I don't know you."

"Ah, you were just a wee bairn when Thorin and Dis brought you here to see us," the white haired man told him. "You weren't even walking yet. You had such big brown eyes. That hasn't changed. I'm Balin Fundinson. Former professor at the University of Edinburgh, and this behemoth is my little brother, Dwalin," he gestured in Dwalin's direction, offering Kili his hand to shake.

When Kili didn't reach for it, he realized that the young man had never seen anyone shake hands before. 

"It's a greeting," Thorin smiled at Kili. "It's how people greet someone they're just meeting for the first time." He reached for Balin's hand and demonstrated.

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," Balin said, reaching again for Kili.

"...and I yours." An exchange between Thorin and himself told Kili that it was fine. He felt all of a sudden like a kid again. All these conventions he had yet to learn. His handshake was limp and lasted too long. "So you've been at our place before? You know mum?" He couldn't help it, he leaned forward. "Could you tell me more about how you met her?"

Dwalin let go of the lad's hand and walked inside, followed by Balin and then Thorin, and only then by Kili. "Aye, we know Dis well. But you, lad, look tired and starving. As does your Uncle. We don't have much, but there should be something in the pantry. So," he called to Thorin over his shoulder, "what brings you here?"

"We lost Dis a few days ago," Thorin explained to his friends. "The poison in her lungs finally caught up with her." 

"I'm so sorry, my friends," Balin put a steadying hand on Thorin's arm. "There is nothing sadder," he said to Kili, "than losing one's mother. It's a pain I never hope to have recreated."

He gestured with one hand for the two of them to sit down at their table, where four chairs—three of which matched—stood sentinel. Thorin sat heavily. "The road has not been kind to me. I was nearly as young as Kili when we last passed this way. Oh, to have such energy again."

That was when Kili started wondering if maybe they should have stayed at the cottage. Only a day away from home—two because they took a wrong turn here and there—and his uncle felt it in his bones already. Surely finding nine other men wouldn't be the end of the travel, and then there was Bag End, where they needed to find someone. Kili didn't even know where Bag End was.

"Have you got a cart?" he asked their hosts. "Maybe horses? We're traveling south, but I'm afraid it won't do us any good if my uncle gets there at the end of his strength. I'd find a way to pay for either, of course."

Balin frowned. "Well, we have a cart, but no horses. We only it on short trips to the market, I'm afraid. We really need it ourselves."

"What's a market?" frowned Kili.

Balin shared a look with Thorin, one that said, _you should have never had your kin holed up in that house for so long,_ before he explained the concept of several farmers in the neighborhood coming together to swap goods. It wasn't much. Most of the crop was inedible, and dried meat was very expensive. They didn't even have stalls like in the old days. But it was something at least. "We are headed there tomorrow, if you want to see," he suggested.

As it was obvious that his uncle needed rest, Kili eagerly accepted.

"Horses," Dwalin chuckled. "Most of those were turned into stew long ago. But I'm sure there are still some out in the wild somewhere." His eyes, however, betrayed a sadness that had settled there when he learned of Dis' fate.

Thorin smiled at Kili's concern for his well-being. "Don't worry about me, Kili," he waved his hand. "My feet have simply forgotten what it's like to spend much time on them. I look forward to the exercise," he assured them. "It was our hope we could convince the two of you to travel with us. We heard rumors about the gardens at Bag End and were hoping to find out if they're true."

"Travel?" Balin looked around him. "But what'll we do with the house?"

His point was fair. Dwalin was considering the same thing, and neither Thorin nor Kili could give them a better reason than Kili's weak, "But if Bag End is real, wouldn't that be worth it?" The world was a bleak place to him. It seemed a little more colorful around here, where there turned out to be places of trade, and where Balin and Dwalin didn't seem too concerned about strangers on the road at night, but it was still no easy life. "Uncle told me stories of tomatoes and herbs as a kid. We don't expect you to come. I mean, we can't expect you to come. But we're going, and we'd appreciate it if you wanted to join us. Right, Uncle?"

"You were always the sort to crave an adventure, Dwalin," Thorin reminded him. "Back before this all happened, you were eager to explore and amass inventory. I turned you down then, because I didn't want to risk the lives of my family. But now Kili's of age. He's a bit green, as I'm sure you've gathered. But he's strong and a crack shot with a bow and arrow." Thorin leaned forward in his chair, eyes locked with Balin's. "Wouldn't it be something to bring the plant growing skills they've allegedly mastered in Bag End back here someday? After, of course, we go check on our former home. You'd like to see Erebor again, wouldn't you, old friend?"

The two edged closer at those words. "So that is why you're here. I thought it would be nice to have you over, but I didn't actually trust it to be a casual visit. You're here for Erebor. Oh, Thorin." Balin shook his head. "Erebor is a crazy dream. A dream in ruins. You'd risk taking Kili there?"

Kili, who had just been sitting there while they called him green and implied in other ways that he knew little of the world, turned on his uncle now too. "It's more dangerous than you said it would be, isn't it?"

"It's our _home,_ Kili," Thorin told him, as if it were the most obvious of things. "Nothing's more important than that." He turned to the brothers. "When the two of you are back inside its walls, you'll remember why it was worth the risk. Remember the happiness we had there? Perfect days, beautiful nights full of endless celebration..." Thorin's blue eyes lit up as if he were gazing upon the paper lanterns and tables filled to bursting with seafood, produce, cheeses and sweets beyond description.

"None of us have forgotten the beauty of our home, Thorin," Dwalin said gently. "But I also haven't forgotten the sounds of bombs falling, or being ousted by those—those _miscreants._ "

With one word, Dwalin summed up the gang-like hoard who had taken over Erebor and chased everyone away, mostly with the use of threats and violence.

"Perhaps they've moved on," Thorin raised his eyes hopefully to Balin.

"If they have, it wouldn't be much of a place they left behind," Dwalin gruffly said. He stood up and walked off to the kitchen. He didn't return for some time, but they heard a kettle being hung above a fire.

Balin's shoulders dropped. "He's right, you know. Erebor was—oh, there's no place that could compete, but it's lost to us now. And if it isn't," he looked between them, "we wouldn't get it back even if we had ten men like you and Kili. We are too few. Bag End I can understand, but Erebor..."

"My sister," Thorin began, and his voice wavered only slightly at her mention, "had some ideas about who we should take along with us." He reached into his satchel and drew out the notebook with the list of names, sliding it across the table towards Balin.

Kili, meanwhile, had gotten up and followed Dwalin into the kitchen. When the burly man noticed Kili's presence, he swiped at his eyes with one hand, nearly—but not quite—hiding his tears from Kili. 

"I was just thinking of your mother," Dwalin explained to Kili. "She and I were close when we were younger. Heck, in a different would, I might have been your father," he chuckled, trying to add levity to the situation.

Kili cast his gaze past the tall man and outside. There, past hills and gullies, she lay, forevermore peaceful. "I miss her, so much. In another world, she would have been alive. Maybe my dad would have been alive, too. A lot of people's lives would have been different, but I only wish for her to have had more time. She asked us to leave, after her." A rueful look came upon him. "She never blamed anyone. Uncle Thorin blames everything for this fate, but not her. Are there any people like her left in the world, Mr. Dwalin? It feels like the last beautiful thing in the world has withered and gone away."

"Of course there are, laddie," Dwalin told him, voice hoarse with emotion. "Plenty of them, in fact. You'll see. We're going to meet them in our travels." He slowly sat down the kettle he'd been holding, realization on his face. "Of course, I'd have to check with Balin and see if he's up for the trek."

"He's older than Uncle," admitted Kili. "I wouldn't mind pushing the cart, if you and him decided to come." He chewed his lip. "Uncle's a very good hunter, but I think I'd feel safer in a larger group. Wouldn't you?"

"It would be suicide, for the four of us," Dwalin agreed. "And a cart would probably be a bad idea. We'd have to travel with what we could carry on our backs. A part of me is excited by the idea. Another is terrified. Ah, but you're young. You probably have no idea what I mean. You should know, the world was a very cutthroat place after the bombs fell, Kili. Men and women—once good people—had to do terrible things to survive."

"I know." Kili quickly added, "They never told me. But eventually you figure out why they won't let you out after dark, or why strangers are always frightening, even if you have no idea why they would be. But they trusted you, so you must be better than the rest out there." He gestured at the kettle. "Are you making tea? I could do with boiled water, if you have some left."

"Of course," Dwalin poured him a mug of hot water, then his eyes lit up, remembering something. He reached up onto a high shelf. "I was saving this, in case the right person came over to visit," he admitted, pulling down an old tin with the word _Wispa_ on the side. "I'm sure it's long expired, but it should taste just fine." He got a spoon from a nearby drawer and dug the spoon into the open tin, bringing up two spoonfuls of brown powder, which he stirred into the hot water until it was nearly blended. "Careful now," he pushed the creation toward Kili. "Hot chocolate is a precious commodity these days."

Kili curiously looked at the liquid in his hands. Small particles floated in a rich dark soup. It smelled amazing, far better than normal water or the occasional stock that his mother had made. He wrapped his hands around the cup to warm his hands and blew the hot chocolate to cool it.

"Hot chocolate," he mused. Life was full of surprises. "You're a good man, Mr. Dwalin. I hope you'll come with us. I don't know about Erebor, but I'd like to see what is true about the rumors of Bag End. For mother's sake." He smiled to himself. "You said you knew her. She must have liked you a lot."

Dwalin looked out the window, a wistful smile on his face.

Balin paced before the empty hearth in the living room. He sometimes thought of something, opened his mouth to speak, then brushed it off as unimportant. Thorin's gaze was on him. "At least spend the night here," Balin stopped to say. "I can't promise you an answer yet, but stay. I'd love to hear all about you and Dis, and your lad too, of course. Much has happened in the past few years. It'll be nice to have guests."

Thorin got to his feet and embraced the man, "Your hospitality means a lot, old friend," he told him. "I hope you'll consider coming along. You know more about the weapons that caused this horror than anyone. Your knowledge will be invaluable wherever we go. At the very least, I'd like you to teach Kili about it, and how the world used to be. This is all he knows," Thorin said softly. "I _hate_ that this is all he knows."

Balin nodded solemnly. He looked over at Thorin's knapsack, then at Kili's pile. "You travel light, old friend. Is it all you have?"

But Thorin had little time to reply, for Kili came hurrying into the living room, sticking out a half empty mug. "Try it!" he called out. "Mr. Dwalin says it's called hot chocolate. It tastes really good! You must try!"

A slow smile spread across Thorin's face at Kili's discovery. "It's all yours, Kili. I've had more than my share of hot chocolate in my lifetime. This is your first. You should enjoy every drop." His breath hitched in his throat. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I should duck out and get some air." 

When Dwalin found him twenty minutes later, Thorin had tears in his eyes. "I've robbed him of a life," he told his friend. "I've kept him sheltered, Dwalin. No longer. _No longer!_ "

Dwalin snorted. "You made sure he lived. I know how you feel about that kid. He's like a son, isn't he? I've only seen him the few times and I almost think of him as a son. Not enough young people, this world has. Not that he needs to know that. He's a grown man. Well, you're here now. Hey, he can tag along tonight, if you want him to get out more. Just night fishing. In fact, you both ought to come. It's very relaxing."

"He's the only son I'll ever have," Thorin agreed, "that much is certain. I've been over-protective though. I need to let him spread his wings. This quest, finding our hometown, it could be so good for him, Dwalin. And I can't wait to taste that fish either."

A hand clasped Thorin's shoulder with confidence. "He'll have his own road. Careful what you ask for, Thorin. He's a good lad, but somehow I dread the day puberty catches up with him." A hearty laugh, and Dwalin turned back to the door. "Come, you're tired and we haven't even offered you food and lodgings yet."

"We don't expect anything from you, old friend," Thorin assured him. "I'm just so relieved to find the two of you here." He pushed a tendril of hair, which had sprung from his long ponytail, behind his ear. "I'm hoping we can catch up with Dori and Nori. They have a kid brother Kili's age. He needs to interact with people his own age."

"Oh boy," laughed Dwalin as he held the door open for Thorin and walked him to a small room with a banged-up threadbare futon, a bit of a blush coloring his cheeks, "that'll be worth the trip. You're talking about Ori, aren't you? Sweet lad. I'm sure Kili and him'll be friends in minutes. Look, we haven't got spare beds for guests, but you can sleep on this if you like. Balin wouldn't mind the couch either. Oh, do mention you're off to Dori and Nori next. Nori owes him things. Might be that he'll come along faster if you tell him that, got me?"

This brought a chuckle from Thorin. "I see. I take it Nori hasn't changed much over the years. I imagine, if anything, he's been thriving. He was always someone you could count on when things were the most dire. He never quibbled over the niceties. We could use a man like that." 

The futon beckoned to Thorin. "I think I might take a small nap, if it's not an imposition. But do take Kili along with you fishing. He'd love it."

"Roger that," laughed Dwalin. "Calls me 'Mr. Dwalin', he does. Makes me feel important. I give you my word, he's in good hands."

It turned out that Kili did love the night fishing. He had never gone fishing before, and he hadn't been allowed outside after dark for years. This was why he had kept still as a mute throughout the first hour, looking about while failing to see the fun of throwing out a line and waiting. But by morning he found on the narrow futon, fell asleep next to him to wake when his uncle did, and then kept going on about the beauty of doing absolutely nothing.

They spent another day at the house before Balin agreed to come along, and the next morning they set out.

Four felt safer than two. Initially, Kili had been concerned about Balin's ability to keep up, but Thorin assured him that the older man would have no trouble holding his own. 

"He was a professor by trade, it's true," Thorin told him, "but he can old his own in a fight. I've seen him knock Dwalin to the ground before. Now, that was a treat."

"Not from my perspective," Dwalin groused. "Don't you worry, lad. Balin's tougher than he looks.

Kili took their word for it. 

They'd left early in the morning, while the sky was still purple. Now, as evening came upon them, they crested a hill and saw below them a sight that set Kili's heart to pounding.

A town.


	4. Nancy Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night spent in a small village adds three more to the growing company. They continue on to Bag End, picking up more as they go.

To be fair, there were only a dozen-or-so houses, ringed together around a central square. As big as the old towns had gotten, it was only a speck, but in this new world after the war it was close to a city to Kili. He was dreadfully wary about it. While the others of his small company walked on with renewed strength, he ended up trailing behind. And when they reached the border, he halted altogether. "You go. I'll wait for you here," he said. And out he took his bow.

"I don't like the idea of leaving you alone in a strange place, Kili," Thorin said, softly. "Don't you want to see the town?" The little circle of homes actually had a small fire in the center of it. People were gathered around it. He thought he could even hear music. "You should come with us, nephew."

"I don't like it." Kili remained adamant. "Too many people. It's not safe." He didn't want to go down into the community because they were strong together, that village. If they turned out to be dangerous people, his uncle and he would have no way out. Even if Thorin, Balin and Dwalin seemed to have no problem with proceeding.

"We've come here for years, lad," said Dwalin. "It'll be safer in their middle than staying on the edge. Besides, I thought you wanted to meet Ori."

"Ori lives there?"

"Smallest house on the block," confirmed Dwalin—not that Kili understood why he referred to the town as a block, as it wasn't square in shape. "Biggest basement though. Several escape tunnels. His brother is a good man, but he has a few...habits."

"What kinds of habits?"

Dwalin shrugged. "Oh, you know, pilfering, things like that. Not from friends though, trust me on that, and neither from friends of friends. So it's perfectly safe."

Kili stepped back and looked the town over. Dwalin was right; he'd be a sitting duck if he stayed here. "Promise me you won't leave me alone."

"Cross my heart."

Grudgingly, Kili relented.

As the quartet approached the fire pit, the sound of music grew louder. A white haired man in a red woolen cap was playing what appeared to be a recorder and another man strummed a guitar. A man and woman danced together off to one side, holding one another closely. It made Thorin's heart clench. He recognized a few faces but, as he hadn't seen many of these men for years, he allowed Dwalin to take the lead, which he did after the music stopped.

"Dori, you scamp!" Dwalin approached the man with the flute and clapped him on the back. "Nice to hear some Jethro Tull after all these years."

Balin huddled after him and followed his lead. The music didn't stop, and the man named Dori greeted them with a merry smile, never missing a note, which left them with no choice but to wait for the end of the song to speak or shake hands.

The music was foreign to Kili, whose only knowledge of music came from his mother playing the guitar. She had looked so peaceful whenever she played; nothing like the posters of old guitarists with mad faces and brightly colored lights that covered the walls of Kili's old room. She didn't wear leather, either. But now there were singing voices, and drums, and instead of falling asleep happily, it made him want to move.

They were still strangers though, and he certainly wasn't going to follow his instincts. "Why are they off to one side?" he asked Thorin while his eyes were locked on the couple.

"It's more romantic in the dim light," Balin waggled his eyebrows in Kili's direction, "if you catch my drift."

Clearly, Kili did not catch his drift. 

"You know..." Balin leaned in and whispered, "in case they decide to make out."

Dwalin chuckled. " _Kiss,_ " he explained. "Each other."

Thorin gave both men a look neither could interpret.

"I'm thinking the lad's never seen that happen," Balin deduced.

Kili wriggled his nose. "I've read about it," he said to try and save some of his dignity. Somehow he sensed that not knowing what was so special about a kiss wasn't something to be proud of. He looked away, oddly awkward under Thorin's scrutiny. "So where is Ori?"

"I'm sure he's around somewhere," Dwalin assured him. "Ori's never one to be the center of attention. He's probably sitting alone somewhere right now, watching us from the distance."

"He's a bit of a nancy boy, if you know what I mean," Balin told Kili.

"Balin..." Thorin's voice held a warning tone.

Ignoring the warning, Kili turned to his uncle. "What's a 'nancy boy'?" He had hardly ever felt stupid back in the cottage, but he felt stupid now.

"Balin is saying, in his own subtle way, that Ori is the kind of young man who's very gentle and sensitive," Thorin smiled in the firelight. "The time I saw him, he was playing with toys that were once generally reserved for little girls."

"I can knit too," said an unfamiliar voice behind the two of them. "Were you told that as well?"

Uncle and nephew turned to find a skinny youth with deep red hair, chopped off so that it fell just above shoulders. His arms were crossed over his chest in a defensive manner. "I'm Ori," he told Kili, extending his hand. "We haven't met, have we? I never forget a face."

All frustration at not knowing enough evaporated in Kili. He stuck out a hand and shook Ori's hand eagerly. Nancy boy, he thought. Apparently it was a term for a gentle man. If so, he understood where Dwalin had been coming from. Ori had something about him that made Kili instantly like him.

"So, what's knitting?" he grinned. He very intently steered them away from the older generation, then leaned in and admitted to the young man, "They make me feel...awkward, I suppose. I'm Kili. The guy over there, that's Thorin, who's my uncle. You have no idea how glad I am to see someone our age."

"Told you," Dwalin folded his arms proudly and leaned towards Thorin. "He's a good kid. They will be best friends." His eyes followed Ori’s form intently as the pair strolled off.

" _This_ is knitting," Ori held up his arms, where black, soft, nubby cloth covered him from elbow to just past his knuckles. "My mother used to run a craft store, so we had a lot of yarn in inventory when the bombs fell. I make clothing—mostly gloves and stockings. Someone once requested underwear, but they found it was too itchy. There's not much underwear left in the world these days, is there?" he chuckled. "Anyway," his eyes swept over Kili from head to toe in the dim firelight, "it really is nice to meet you. It's been ages since someone our age passed through here, and she was so stuck up. Ugh." He shook his whole body as if to shake off the memory of this horrible girl. "Are you lot planning to stay, or just passing through?"

"Oh, passing through," said Kili, who looked in amazement at the gloves. He had never questioned where clothing came from, only that it was sparse, but of course someone had to be able to make it. "We're on our way south. Bag End first. How long does it take to make one of those? They must be warm. Mum always made me be very careful with my clothing because we didn't have much of it, but that looks new enough."

As soon as there was a respectable distance between them and his uncle, Kili slowed down and finally looked around. The houses weren't big, and yet they were built in such a way to look like a massive unity. "Where do you live?"

"Over there," Ori pointed to a small home between two larger ones. "It's really all I need for myself. As long as I'm able to lock up and protect my belongings. I can make a pair of these in a day or two," he held up his hands, "provided my carpal tunnel doesn't bother me too much. People need to stay warm. I trade them for rations and hygiene stuff. I'm guessing," Ori wrinkled his nose, "that you don't see a lot of soap where you're from."

Kili scowled. "I know what it's used for." He also knew what Ori was implying at. Kili had never considered himself to smell bad—though he had to admit that Ori smelled more sterile than what he was used to, at least. He sighed. "It's hard to get by when every stranger could be out to rob you. I haven't seen a lot of anything, I'm starting to think."

"How would you like to take a bath?" Ori asked him. "We have a community well, and the plumbing here works decently thanks to Edgar over there." He waved his hand vaguely back towards the center of the village. "I mean, the water wouldn't be super warm, but we could boil a pot and add to it. Your hair looks like a rat's nest, if you want to know the truth. I could wash it for you. I have _shampoo,_ he said proudly, as if he'd just announced he'd won some sort of award. “I traded for it. It smells amazing.”

"...Yeah, never heard of shampoo before either." It was beginning to get painful. "Ask me about hunting or guitars or something, please." Kili helplessly looked over at Thorin, who sat outside of hearing range but kept a close watch on him regardless. No, he wasn't quite ready to go back there and give up on the first chance to talk to someone his own age, despite the dent in his pride that this trip was increasingly becoming. "Right, you mentioned a bath? How, _communal_ is it?"

Ori chuckled. "It isn't. It's in my house, in the bathroom. Come on," he took Kili by the hand and pulled him up the brick stairs towards his door, where he reached into his pocket and produced a key ring. Opening the door, he ushered Kili inside. "It's small, but it's home," he announced. gesturing around. "Have you eaten today? I have biscuits."

And so it came to be that half an hour later, Kili had a stranger's bathroom all to himself, was fed on biscuits, and had the very foreign experience of having hands massage some foam into his hair. He vaguely recalled his mother having done this to him when he was just a small kid, and instinctively knew to close his eyes.

"So you've got visitors now and then, right?" he asked after Ori left to allow him to finish in privacy. "Like, good people? Do they tell you about where they're from, what the world is like?"

"Yes," Ori said from the other side of the door, where he sat knitting by candlelight. He'd gotten so good at it that he could mostly do it in the dark. But now he was making mittens for Kili, so they needed to be perfect. Kili, his new friend, was worth wasting a candle for. "Folks pass through here often. I'm afraid that things aren't great out there. Lots of gangs, many of them pretty ruthless. We're lucky to live here where we do. If you were smart, you'd stay here with us instead of exploring."

"Can't do that," replied Kili from the bathroom, adding a faint echo to his voice. "I promised Mum we'd leave, find others and go south where it might be better. We already found Mr. Dwalin and Mr. Balin." With a knowing voice, sadder in sound, he added, "there are others on the list, but if they live like you live here, then we have no right to ask them to follow."

Dabbing his fingers into the water absently, thoughts of his mother reappeared before Kili's vision. In the privacy of the bathroom, he closed his eyes and bit back his tears.

Ori was torn. He could hear Kili crying. He should have gone into the bathroom to try and comfort him. At the same time, he didn't want to scare the young man away. Finally, he could take the sound of Kili's sadness no longer. He rapped softly on the door and entered, eyes closed.

"I've brought a towel for you," Ori offered by way of excuse. "Tell me, are you here because the name of someone in this village is on your mum's list?"

Kili blinked out of it with difficulty. "Why are you closing your eyes?" He cringed at the puddles of foam he had left on the tiled floor. "I'll clean that when I'm done, sorry. You're, well, you're on the list, as are your two brothers. Mum remembered you apparently. She made a list of people she knew she could trust." He smiled. "I wouldn't be here in your house alone if she hadn't trusted you. Maybe in a few days."

Ori cracked open his eyes to find a naked Kili shivering and toweling off. Apparently Kili had no qualms about being naked in front of others. And why should he? He had an amazing body. He was bit thin, but who wasn't these days? Ori, given permission, studied every inch of him. Kili had no burns, unlike so many others, including himself.

"You have a nice body, Kili," Ori said, hating himself the moment the words left his lips.

Kili stilled—and at once covered himself up with the towel. He cursed to himself. "I take it this is another thing I'm doing wrong, right? Mum and Thorin never—"

Well, it turned out that he had a lot to learn. Kili hung his head. "It's...you know, I had a few books at home. I read them over and over, but that's just all I know. We never had people over. Mr. Dwalin poked fun at me not even knowing about the two people dancing, but I've never known Dad and Thorin has never mentioned a wife or, you know, _someone._ It's not fair."

"I wasn't trying to make you feel bad," Ori hastily explained, stepping closer. "I was going for the opposite, actually. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just thought that maybe...that we could..." he chuckled nervously, "I'll wait in the living room," he muttered, and left without another word.

Kili was left in the bathroom astonished. He quickly dried himself off and got dressed in his suddenly smelly clothing, tying up his hair with a leather band. That someone who might have been intimidating was instead intimidated by him made him feel a lot safer, even if it was for the wrong reasons. As soon as he was ready, he sought Ori out again.

"Hi," Kili grinned. There was an apology in the way he bore himself. "I'm sorry. I never met people that I really want to be friends with, and now that I have, it turns out I have no idea what to say. Let's start over, okay? I'm Kili. I know a great deal about survival, and apparently nothing about social behavior. Let's be friends?"

"I'm Ori," the redhead smiled. "I'm not very useful... _out there,_ " he admitted. "But I do have pretty good aim with my slingshot. I made you this," he held up a grayish blue item. "It's to keep your hand warm when you travel. If you can stick around another day, I'll have a partner for it."

"Already? In the time I was in the bathroom?" The sleeve looked as warm as Kili soon found out it really was. He slipped it around his left hand and wondered at the skill and, more than that, the ability to make something from scratch. Then he realized something and sat up, rummaging shortly through his very small and rather empty bag, and procured a strip of leather. "Uh, here." He tapped at his bow, indicating that the weapon might wear the glove down too fast without precautions. "For the other piece, for the wrist. Otherwise I'd ruin it far too quickly. That's not difficult to add, right? Well, anyway. It's really warm. Thank you."

Kili didn't want his new friend to give him a gift without having something in return. He thought about it—there wasn't much he could give. No, wait, maybe there was. From his tattered backpack he procured a small string of leatherwork, pleated and closed with a wooden bead. "Here."

Ori bit his lip, looking down at the little trinket. "This is the sweetest thing anyone's ever given me," he told Kili. "And believe me when I tell you that men enjoy giving me presents."

His comment held undertones of something Kili clearly didn't understand.

"I actually started on the mitten before you arrived," Ori explained. "I don't know. Maybe I'm a little psychic—in addition to all _this_ ," he smiled and gestured grandly at himself. "I hope you like blue."

"I love it," Kili was sure to tell him. But he wrinkled his nose at Ori's suggestion. "They give you gifts because you make things for them?"

Ori lowered his gaze, and even in the dim light, Kili would see him blushing. "Well yes, that, and other things. We—all of us—are a bit of a commodity. Sometimes I provide men with a service they need to get by. You know...physically."

When Kili still didn't quite understand, Ori shrugged. "Anyway, it keeps me fed and safe," he said with certainty. "I'll be able to get that second glove done by tomorrow night. Show me where you want the leather strip to be?"

Kili didn't understand, like he didn't understand so many things, but he chose not to comment, just as he chose not to be asking Thorin or Dwalin later on. He pointed out a patch from his wrist to the inside of his elbow, and demonstrated that when he notched an imaginary arrow on an imaginary bow, that was where the string could hit. "Tell me about you?" he asked. "You live with your brothers, right? In this house?"

"Nope," Ori smiled. "Just me. Dori has his own place as well, and when Nori's in town—which he does happen to be at the moment—he crashes there. I need my space. They can be a bit overbearing. You'll see when you meet them. That guy you came into town with—the hot one—he your old man?"

"Thorin? Gross, no, he's my uncle. Don't talk about him like that." Kili couldn't understand why his new friend would say that about Thorin. "He's...ancient. Besides, it's kind of weird if you call him hot. Aren't only women supposed to be hot?"

"I suppose," Ori drew an invisible line with the toe of his black boot, "that if I were the type of man who loved women, they would be."

A distance emerged between the two where there did not need to be one. That was what Kili thought, at least, and in attempt to dissolve it he added an afterthought, "I never thought that was possible too. It's not common though, is it? I mean, not that it matters one bit. And hey, the better for you. I haven't seen a lot of women around anyway."

Ori's awkward smile when Kili had rudely trampled over the possibility of Ori finding his very strict and little appealing uncle attractive now made Kili feel guilty. "I'm sorry. He's like a father to me." He smiled in apology. "The only family I've got left. I bet if I said either of your brothers appealed to me, you'd say the same to me. Not, I mean, that they do. I haven't met them yet. Hey, do you have any fun games to do when it's dark?"

Ori snorted. "If you thought either of my brothers was attractive, I'd take you to have your head examined." He sobered up. "I never met my dad. And mother died when I was still very young. I mean, my oldest brother's old enough to be my father, technically. You do the math. He's a good guy. He used to be a mayor. People still look to him for guidance," Ori told him. "About games, well, around here we mostly just sit around the fire and tell stories, or play music." He didn't give in to the urge to laugh at the images Kili's question conjured up. The young man was clearly a blank slate—pure as snow. It wasn't Ori's job to corrupt him. "I like the campfires," he said, "although I usually just sit there and knit the whole time."

The world that Ori sketched out was a wonderful one to Kili. He almost felt like he shouldn't go further south to Bag End. It couldn't be as harmonious as they lived here. Sure, they were probably as short on supply as Thorin, his mother and he had been; but at least they lived in peace, with no fear of travelers. They even had a campfire and they weren't afraid of music, whereas Kili had been taught to be silent and invisible in the night, because that was when the bad things came out.

"Can we join them tonight?" he asked. "I'd like to hear the stories." His hair was slowly starting to dry, but he was still cold and the campfire would be nice. "I admire how you live. If we weren't passing through, I would have asked to stay. It must be nice, to have that safety."

"Yeah," Ori said wistfully. Truth be told, he never really felt safe. Just not alone. "C'mon," he held out his hand to Kili, hoping the other would take it, and jerked his head towards the center of town.

Kili took it without thinking twice and let himself be led back to the square. It was less foreign now, less suspicious to him. The campfire, larger than a simple flicker in the dark and enough to defy the rules of the night, burned bright. To its left were Thorin, Balin and Dwalin. Next to them sat the short, fussy man who’d been playing the recorder. Ori didn't go that way. Instead Kili was taken to the other side of the fire, where they sat down on a log that had been laid there.

It was such a simple thing, but Kili loved that night. He listened to stories, huddled against his new friend, and allowed Thorin to sit next to him later, listening to his report of Dori and Nori. Far too soon, he leaned against his uncle and fell asleep on his shoulder.

Kili was still asleep later that night, when Dwalin sidled up to Ori and nudged him in a manner indicative of years of familiarity. They vanished into Ori's house and didn't reappear until the next morning. When they did, Ori had packed a bag.

Dori was not pleased. 

"I want to go with them, Dori," the redhead said, voice steady. "And I want you and Nori to come as well."

"It's not safe!" Dori exclaimed, just about ready to take Ori's bag from his back and put it back where he deemed it belonged—which was the hallway, and no further than that. "We know what we have here! Why are you acting like this? You’ve always liked it here. Peace and quiet, and tea and knitting. I don't understand why you want to throw that away now."

"We're _hiding,_ Dori!" Ori frowned. "We're hiding away from the world, squirreling away what little possessions we have. But what we have, it won't last forever. It'll run out. We need to explore. We need to find others like us. Thorin seems to think that we might be able to find a gardener in Bag End."

"A gardener? A gardener?!" Dori scoffed. "You're running away from home because of a gardener?" But he visibly wavered.

"It's not so much the gardener as it is what he can do," Ori said. "Wouldn't you pretty much kill someone for some strawberries? Or more wheat for baking? We're eating cookies that are twenty years old, for god's sake—and we consider them a delicacy." Ori leaned in close and whispered, "I'm going with or without your permission, Dori. I feel very strongly about this."

Dori wagged a finger at his younger brother's nose. "This is because of that—because of that—don't make me say it. That _Dwalin,_ isn't it? I've seen the way he looks at you. It's unbecoming, that's what it is. Well, you leave me no choice but to come along. _Someone_ has to keep an eye on you as well as your brother." He stuck his nose up in the air. "But if there's strawberries, I'll be the first to sample them."

Opposite the small square, Kili stood ready to welcome his new friend into their midst. He was thrilled. "It's good to have him with us," he said to Thorin. "He knows how to make stuff, Uncle. Look what he made me." He waved his arm in front of the man, who looked a bit too relaxed for his sake. Kili frowned and sniffed. "You smell like tobacco. Did you smoke?"

Dwalin, upon striding past Thorin, took a sniff. "That's not tobacco, Kili," he chuckled. "I'm guessing you hooked up with Nori."

A man with hair a slightly lighter red than Ori's appeared next to Thorin at just that moment. His black leather jacket was worn, but gave him a slightly dangerous look. "So." His eyes were as glazed as Thorin's. "South we go then?"

"South we go," Kili affirmed, excited to go, especially now that their group was growing. It would hopefully get bigger before the time they found Bag End. He searched out Ori for company and together they waited until everyone was ready to go.

\- - - - -

The company arrived in the night, barely able to distinguish the rolling hills or the state of the land, but tired from their journey and with a scribbled address on a piece of paper. A fellow drinking a ramshackle inn had told them that if they were looking for a farmer, that was the place to go. An old friend, he had said. Mention the name Carl Cotton.

And so, with a company that had increased along the way until it contained everyone on the list, Dwalin took the lead when nobody else dared knock on the round door. Three firm beats echoed through the house.

"He'll never open," Balin shook his head at Thorin. "Imagine a company like ours on your doorstep. And he lives alone, too. We might have to stay outside for the night, and try again tomorrow."

Inside however, they heard the clamor of pots and pans, someone padding to the front door, and the heavy oaken ward suddenly slowly creaking open. A slight man with curly hair stood there, baffled at this unexpected visit.

"Yes?" he asked "Can I help you?"


	5. Carrots and Keloids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo and Bombur prepare a delicious meal from Bilbo's well-stock pantry. Thorin tries to convince Mr. Baggins to come with them to Erebor. Kili learns a shocking secret.

Clearly the sight of so many men on his front stoop must have been a frightening one. 

Thorin stepped forward to try and put the curly-haired man at ease. "We've come because we've heard so many wonderful things about your skills in agriculture. Did you grow these flowers yourself?" Thorin gestured at the purple mums, defiantly growing, despite the chill in the air, in the man's window box.

"You've come because—because of my _flowers?_ " The man inclined his head uncomfortably. "Well, I can't blame you, because they're gorgeous, but that's hardly something worth coming all the way here for. If you've come from far, I mean. So, um, who are you people exactly, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Most of us hail from the North these days," Dwalin told him. "But most of us were also displaced by the fallout."

"We heard," Ori stepped forward, "that the people living here in Bag End had figured out how to bring the soil back to life—to grow things. It appears as if the rumors are true."

"Can you teach us?" wondered Bombur, a rotund chef the company had picked up only a few days earlier.

The homeowner stared at these ridiculous questions. "It's the middle of the evening! And you don't strike me as gardeners, you lot, if you don't mind me saying. Can't you come back in the morning? I'm in the middle of making dinner."

Bofur, Bombur's brother, who rarely stopped smiling, stepped forward and opened his knapsack. "We've got six fish in here—trout—as well as some wild onions and about a pound of venison. Would that stretch dinner enough for all of us?"

"No, not nearly!" The man looked offended at the meager portion that this stranger had dared present to him. Though he had to admit it had been a while since he'd had venison, and the men looked so proud to be presenting him with this poor portion that he sighed and stepped aside. "Very well, I see you're serious. Come in then. But shoes off, and I'd appreciate it if you left those weapons at the door.

Dwalin was past the door first. The interior was foreign and astonishing to him. Built under a hill, it had great camouflage and yet still looked a bit like a rabbit warren upon entering. Better yet was the pantry he stumbled across. Dwalin had never seen so much food in one person’s home since the Dragonfire. "Oy, Balin!" he called out. "Will you look at this!"

It was actually Kili who made it there first. He stared at it all. "That's no bread and water," he gaped.

Bombur's eyes were wide with glee and tinged with a bit of madness. "You've got cheese," he breathed as if seeing mounds of gold. "And look at this!" he grabbed a bunch of carrots and held them aloft. They were huge.

"Carrots!" Nori smiled. "Oh, and look!" he held up a tomato nearly the size of his head.

"It's the soil," Bilbo muttered. "What we grow here tends to be a bit...larger than the old versions used to be. We thought it might have something to do with the radiation."

"It's incredible!" said Kili. As if remembering his manners, he quickly whipped out his hand and offered the man a handshake. "Sorry. We've come a long way and we're very tired. I'm Kili." He proceeded to introduce everyone as they showed more interest in the food than in proper conduct. "And what's your name? To be fair, we only heard of the name Bag End."

"Baggins," the man, who was rapidly appearing harried told them all. "Bilbo Baggins. This is my home. It withstood the dropping of the Dragonfire missiles, as did most of the homes in this valley. We were very lucky. And the rumors you've heard are true—although we don't like to spread it around because it brings _people_ snooping." It was obvious he meant those present.

"The soil here, while it did grow cold and hard for a few seasons, came back to life once we started tilling it every day. We're able to grow vegetables, and some berries and flowers, despite the cold. Some of them, as you can see, grow to large sizes. And all are safe to eat. None of us have keeled over yet."

"We've lived off the hunt for years." Thorin stepped forward and asserted himself as the closest person they had to a leader. "To see this many greens, it's almost overwhelming." Next to him, Kili smiled at Bilbo in a way that said it was nice to meet him, and then turned to rove his hungry eyes over the stock. He wouldn't touch though, and him and Ori made sure to bat away every hand that threatened to.

Thorin inclined his head in a bow. "It's an honor to meet a master of the land."

Bilbo shifted between pride and annoyance. "Yes, but I'm sure all that can wait until morning."

At that point, someone's stomach let out a traitorous—and embarrassingly loud—growl, which sent many of them into nervous laughter.

"So..." Ori turned to Bilbo, "about dinner then?"

"What, all of you?" Bilbo tittered from side to side. "Well, I suppose I could make you the dishes you brought. That would be hospitable, I suppose." He scraped his throat and turned to Thorin. "Can you get your men into the dining room? Just, um, just follow me."

Some of the party milled about uneasily. It was apparent that a few of them hadn't spent much time inside for awhile—especially in such a cozy place. While most of them filed into Bilbo's dining room, Bombur followed Bilbo to the kitchen.

"Put me to work if you like," he said. "I'm a master chef. I worked at Castle Terrace in Edinburgh before the war."

"You—oh my!" For the first time, Bilbo found himself impressed and pleased with his unanticipated company. He led Bombur to the kitchen and showed him around the various utensils. "You must have an idea about what to make," he said. And, because it wasn't always that he had such esteemed guests over, he added, "It's okay if you take what you need from the pantry. Just don't tell anyone. They'll expect to want a full breakfast later on. Heaven forbid second breakfast. They look starved, Mr. Bombur."

"Truth be told, they are," Bombur admitted, accepting an apron from Bilbo and tying it around his sizable waist. "I'd be a hell of a lot thinner myself if I didn't have this unfortunate glandular problem." He studied Bilbo's array of knives and reached for a small cleaver and a chopping board, and began to expeditiously chop up an onion. "Most of them have been living on meat and drinking water of questionable quality for years. Most of them haven't had a vegetable since the canned supply ran out ten years ago. I'd wager that Kili, the youngest, has never tasted a string bean, or a berry."

"Not a—" Bilbo shut his mouth. His eyes went to the living room, then back. He nodded to himself. "Mr. Kili?" Bilbo called out with a far too quiet voice for the company, one tentative finger raised in the air. "Um. Mr.—oh, goodness. Mr. Kili!"

The young man had his eyes on him immediately. As had the rest of the company. "Mr. Bilbo?"

"Could you, um, oh, stop looking at me, all of you. Could you come here for a second?"

As soon as a confused and wary Kili did, Bilbo held out a small bundle of grapes. They were beautifully purple, slightly oversize, and they were Bilbo's pride. "Tell me what you think of these."

Kili looked at Bombur. He took one grape when it seemed all right and bit into one. Juice squirted out of the grape. Astonished, Kili plopped the rest of the grape quickly in his mouth and licked his fingers. Then his eyes grew wide.

It wasn't meat and it was definitely something like a berry, but the taste was amazing. "What is this?"

"Those are grapes, young man," Bombur told him. "We used to use them for so many things. Wine, jellies and jams. We dried them up and ate them as raisins. Scotland had some fine, fine vineyards back in the day. Maybe someday we will again. This gives me hope," he smiled at Bilbo, and reached for one of the grapes himself, popping it into his mouth. "Mmm, exquisite," he murmured around it. "It brings back so many wonderful memories," he said pensively, eyes growing glassy with tears. "We have to start things growing again, Mr. Baggins. I can't wait for daylight. I can't wait to see your gardens!"

Kili, meanwhile, helped himself to another grape. It was the most wonderful thing he'd ever eaten.

Bilbo found himself heartened by his unexpected company's love for his crops. He was a bit proud of his bounty, after all. Nobody had such good crops as he. He hadn't imagined that word of it would be getting all the way back to where Thorin's company came from. They looked like they had traveled for weeks, and only for his gardens?

With that in mind, he and Bombur tried their best at a decent meal which depleted a fair bit of the pantry alongside Bofur's fish and meat. They were with so many.

Halfway through, another knock came on the door. Bilbo blinked, but it was Dori who opened for him upon noticing him with his hands covered in grease. "Mr. Bilbo?" he called out. "There's a man here who names himself Gandalf? Should I let him in?"

Bilbo, of course, knew Gandalf well. "Yes...yes, of course!" he insisted, and he added a plate for his friend. "Good to see you, Gandalf," he greeted the old man, handing over the food. "What news from the road?"

"It's been quiet," Gandalf shrugged out of his long blue coat. "Far too quiet. There's talk of discontent in the Murky Forest. And that never bodes well. Oh, hello," he smiled at the sight of so many pairs of eyes directed at him. "You didn't tell me you had company. I'm Gandalf."

"He's modest," Bilbo followed up. "Gandalf's an inventor. He's especially gifted with electronics. Or, he was, back when we actually had electricity," he shrugged.

"My hope is to find a power station that hasn't been ravaged by time or gutted by looters," Gandalf explained to them all. "Then perhaps we can finally have some real heat."

Several of the others laughed in agreement.

Thorin, whose stomach was feeling uncomfortably full from a meal much larger than he was accustomed to, shook Gandalf's hand. "You should travel with us," he suggested to the older man. "We're headed to Erebor. My sister had a notion of amassing a group of experts and rebuilding a sort of Utopia there."

Gandalf didn't tell him that the group amassed looked more like misfits than experts. "Why not?" he shrugged, picking up a carrot and biting into it. "I've got no other plans." His easy acceptance had Bilbo's jaw drop.

Kili mingled in the conversation when he overheard. He whispered to Thorin, "You make it sound like the food in Bag End isn't equally important. I doubt Mr. Bilbo will want to leave. I almost don't want to leave it, myself. This wine, it's tingly. It tastes really good. A bit odd that it makes you lightheaded. Mr. Dwalin says it's supposed to do that."

"How many cups of that wine have you had, Kili?" Thorin felt compelled to ask, trying to hide his concern. 

"Oh, let the lad enjoy himself!" Dwalin clapped Thorin heartily on the back. "There was a time when you'd be encouraging us all to tip over the cask and pour it down your gullet, Thorin!"

"Here! Here!" Dori cheered, and Thorin blushed.

"It's true, I'm afraid," he told Kili. "I wasn't always so stern—or so boring."

Kili batted his eye at the awkward confession. "Well, of course you weren't. You were like me once, and I'm sure I'll be like you eventually. But I don't mind it. You did what needed to be done to survive." It was like a father telling him about the first time he had gotten with his mother, except Kili didn't know his real dad, even if Thorin was a close enough substitute.

Still, there were better things he could be hearing than the man he considered a father talking poorly about himself.

And so Kili poured himself another glass and shoved it across the table to Thorin to share. "Here. It tastes very good, you'll like it."

"Thank you," Thorin's face lifted in a short-lived smile. "I know this is hard for you to understand, but tasting this wine reminds me of before the war. When things were so much simpler. I hate that you have to live like this, Kili," he said softly, so that none of the others heard. "I know it's all you know, but that doesn't make it all right." He took a sip of the wine and pushed the glass back towards Kili. "Just don't overdo it. I don't want to nurse you through your first hangover on this trip."

But Kili made a look that said enough, and Thorin knew that the man must have read about hangovers in one of his books one time and was now most likely interested in seeing what that was like. He could only hope that the book had mentioned it being dreadful in the mornings.

As soon as he was back among the others, quick in becoming friends with their wary host, Dwalin joined Thorin by his side. "He looks like him," he said. "Like your little brother. It's like looking through a window at the past. Are you sure you want us to go to Erebor? He would live a fine life here."

"Am I _sure?_ " Thorin's eyes scanned the gathering, pausing on each happy face. "Is it fair to them to ask this? Especially now that they have seen Bag End? No, of course I'm not sure. But I will give each and every one of them the chance to change his mind, if he wants to. I swear this to you, Dwalin."

Ori, who had clearly had his share of wine, weaved his way over to Dwalin and slipped easily under Dwalin's arm. "Hey," he smiled up at him. "Want to go outside for a bit?"

And so Dwalin apologized to Thorin and left, leaving little room for speculation for anyone watching. Very few did, busy as they were with the stock of food and wine, and in merry company. Poor Bilbo had to run around several times to keep some of his delicate china from falling. "Can't you do something?" he hissed to Thorin on his sixth run around.

"They're good men," Thorin assured him. "Just having a spot of fun in a world where they're far too starved for it. No one will damage your property, Mr. Baggins. On my word. Tell me then," he put a warm hand on Bilbo's shoulder, steering the man into a quiet corner, "will you consider going with us? Or, would you at least be willing to let us barter for some of your food before we go?"

Bilbo opened his mouth, and closed it again. He sighed. "I'm sorry, but you have nothing that I need, Mr. Thorin. I would trade with you if you had anything. Nor does your cause appeal to me. Look around. I'm safe here. There is food and rich soil. Why would I leave it?"

"If I were you, I wouldn't want to leave either," Thorin admitted. "Asking you to come with me is ridiculous, I know it. Have you considered that what you have here—your skills—are something you could share with the world? What if you were the man who got us going again agriculturally? What if you could help end the starvation, the malnutrition and the constant bickering over resources? What if you could help others achieve what you have here—self-sufficiency?"

"Well, but that's the soil," muttered Bilbo. "Sure enough, no other farmer could do what I do without years of learning, but who's to say I will be able to make even grass grow out there? And, you know, that region you are looking for, Gandalf tells me it's not exactly the safest of places, either. Then again, he keeps pushing me to go. Says it'll be a great adventure. But what good is an adventure when it gets you starved for food, when it makes you a meal for others?"

"I don't have any words of reassurance for you, Mr. Baggins," Thorin sat his nearly full glass of wine aside. "I made a promise to my nephew that I'd try to bring him to a better world. That he'd be part of a change for the better. I'm not sure I can make good on that promise, but I have to try. I have an ancestral home, and I'm going there. I wish you'd come along, but I understand if you wouldn't want to."

Bilbo sat down and shook his head. "I have a home, Mr. Thorin. You're sitting in it. Robbers don't find me, so it's a very safe place to be. I don't know much about your home, and not enough about you to come with you. I'm sorry. I'll arrange the lot of you breakfast in the morning, but then you had best be on your way."

Thorin gave him a nod. "I understand. We're very grateful for your hospitality, Mr. Baggins," he told his host again, picking up his wine. "I should see to my nephew." He moved to the other side of the room, brushing past Balin as he did so.

"Baggins isn't coming with us," he told the white haired man. "Can you blame him? I'm sure most of the men would stay here, given the choice. Perhaps we can pass through again on the way home."

But Thorin knew in his heart he'd probably never pass this way again.

Balin shuffled closer after short consideration. He smiled knowingly. "Perhaps it's time to gather around the fire and share your story. Besides, I could do with a smoke."

They ventured out onto the modest stoop of Bilbo's home. Thorin's eyes were drawn again to that small box full of mums. It beckoned to him, and assured him that there was still hope for a better world.

They settled on a bench and Thorin watched as Balin lit up his pipe. "What did you want to know, friend?" he asked, at length. "I must tell you in all honestly, the past eighteen years have been spent in one spot with my sister and with Kili. After all the traveling we did after the war, I had gotten tired of risking their lives. Instead I ended up sheltering them. Who knows? Had we traveled more, Kili might have made some friends. Maybe we'd have met someone with the medical skill and drugs to help cure my sister."

"Oh lad," Balin shook his head, "you need not convince me. I have lived on that land, I know why you want it back. But the others don't. Kili, does he know? Mr. Baggins, he certainly doesn't. You ought to let them know. Share a story with them. What say you try it out, if the hearth hasn't dried up. You were always a great storyteller. They might want to know what happened for us to have lost it." He lit his own pipe. "You might want to add that once Erebor was a land of great fertility. Maybe that'll convince our grocer."

Thorin nodded. "Very well," he nodded, clapping Balin on the shoulder. As he did, he took a moment to notice the long-healed burn on the side of Balin's neck. It was shaped almost like a rose, and was nearly as large.

When the Dragonfire bombs had fallen, many had died instantly. Fiery, poisonous shockwaves killed others. But the fallout reached beyond that. Many who had lived downwind of the blasts had these burns—keloids, Balin said was their proper name—on their bodies. They, unlike normal burn scars, did not heal flat or cleanly. Most were raised lumps, some up to an inch and a half higher than the skin around it...and all in unusual patterns. The most intriguing feature of the keloids was the colors. They came in all shades. Balin said it was due to the chemicals and radiation. 

Balin's keloid was on his neck and it was nearly blood red, which further added to the illusion that it looked like a rose. Dwalin's, dark blue, were spattered about the crown of his head. Poor Bifur had a nearly black keloid that covered a good portion of the right side of his face. Many of the others had keloids under their clothing. To some they had become a symbol of survival—more biographical than tattoos of days gone by. 

Thorin and Kili had been fortunate enough to be spared the burns. And yet Kili was fascinated by them.

"Listen up!" Thorin called out to the men gathered around the fire smoking and drinking. "We've kept our host awake far too long, as it is, so I want to suggest we all settle in for the night."

As Thorin said this, Ori and Dwalin slipped through the doorway. Ori looked guiltily around the room as they sought out places to sit. 

"I'm glad you all accompanied me," Thorin told those gathered. "I imagine, based on how well we ate this evening, that you all are too. There's so much I personally have missed because I have allowed my fear of what lay beyond my walls to overwhelm me. We cannot fall victim to that. Look what we've found here in Bag End!" he gestured in the direction of Bilbo and his slightly less well-stocked pantry. "Paradise."

Voices murmured in assent. 

"I want to keep going," Thorin looked around at the group, being sure to meet and hold each pair of eyes. "I want to go to my former home—the former home of many of us—and see what's left of it. Bombur, surely you recall what fertile soil we had there before the war?" he asked the big man. "You had the finest garden in town."

"He had the finest berries in the village," Dori reminded them all. "The finest tomatoes, the finest potatoes. Not as large as yours, Mr. Baggins," he deferred graciously to their host, "but the taste!" he gestured.

"Aye," Bombur readily agreed. "The seeds and bulbs took to the soil so easily that feeding my family was hardly any work at all. I do wonder what you could accomplish in Erebor, Mr. Baggins," he turned to the curly haired man, "given the chance."

Bilbo tittered nervously but sleepily while leaning against the arm of his chair, curling up into the seat without getting his feet off the floor. These men were pushing him well past his normal bedtime. "Where is this Erebor anyway? I've never heard of it. I am sure that if it's in the Midlands somewhere, it'll be easier to grow things there, but wouldn't it also be less protected?"

Next to him, Kili leaned forward from where he had sat down on the floor cross-legged, eager to hear about Erebor. "Yes, how far is it, in days?"

The fire in the hearth crackled, the heat warm on their skins. It was like the war had never touched the place.

Kili coughed and grinned. "Will there be others there?" He shared a look with Ori.

"It shouldn't take us more than a week to walk there," Thorin assured them. "As far as who we might find there, I don't know."

"I think you _do_ know," Bofur spoke up from where he sat against a wall, whittling. "We've all heard the rumors about Azog. He was an organized crime boss before the war," Bofur explained to Kili and Ori. "There's talk about him having taken up residence in Thorin's former estate."

"I've also heard that Thranduil lived there for a bit, and might still," Gloin spoke up. 

Thorin scoffed. "Thranduil," he spat. "He'd be too cowardly to make the journey."

"Who's Thranduil?" Ori wondered.

Kili shifted closer. "Thranduil?" he echoed his friend. "You never mentioned that name before. Who is he? Did mum know him?"

Balin tried to convey to Kili not to ask, shooting glances at Thorin every now and then, but by now all of the group had decided that this was something they would be interested to hear, Bilbo included. Naturally, something that could be a threat—by the general response to the name—would be important as a further reason not to go.

"Ah, that bastard," Dwalin groused. "Yes, your mother knew him, if only by what he did to her kin. Thranduil is a vile creature, but a coward. I doubt he'll still be there, if somewhere at all. This world is not kind on cowardly folk."

"Thranduil was a bit of a bigwig—son of the mayor of a large and rather affluent town located in the Caledonian forest. His father was friends with my father and the two of them were always working out trade deals of one sort or another. In fact, your father, Kili, was visiting with Thranduil on one such diplomatic mission when the bombs fell. When it was discovered that Erebor was a prime target for the Dragonfire, we called upon Thranduil's help—for shelter in Caledonia. He wouldn’t allow it He came close enough to see the carnage, but wouldn't give any assistance. He sent condolence, but never any aid for people injured and starving."

“If it weren’t for Thranduil, your father and wee brother might still be alive today,” Balin said ruefully, not realizing the secret he’d just divulged.

Kili stilled, and somehow everyone else did too. "Brother?" he finally croaked. "You never told me I ha—"

But judging from the pity he was suddenly given, everyone else apparently knew, Kili realized upon glancing about the room—everyone except maybe Ori and Bilbo. 

He'd had a brother, once.

Kili forgot to breathe.


	6. The Murky Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The company, now fourteen, arrives at the Murky Woods. Is choosing to pass through it a wise decision?

"He was but five years old," Thorin started sadly. "He loved your dad and couldn't bear to be separated from him, so Vili took him along on the trip. Thranduil had a son about the same age. He thought it might soften the negotiations if he brought along a playmate. At any rate," he put his hand on Kili's arm, "both of them died. Thranduil assured us they went quickly. Not that it was any consolation for your mother. We didn't tell you, I suppose because you wouldn't have remembered either of them. You weren’t even born when the bombs fell. And you'd already been deprived of a safe, happy world. It just didn't seem fair to add more onto that. Especially something you could not change. I'm sorry, Kili. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

"And you're telling me _now?_ " Kili stared incredulously. "I could have talked to Mum about it. She could have told me more. Maybe she would have liked that. I had a brother and you never told me?!"

Despite his years, Kili had little experience dealing with a surprise like this. He felt like the world was watching him critically, expecting him to calm down. It wasn't that big of a deal. Except it was, and his own uncle, the man he considered almost a father, had never told him. Kili felt betrayed. "That is not fair!"

"Please, Kili," Thorin said softly, "now is not the time for conflict. Not in front of our host and traveling companions."

"We all lost someone," Bilbo stepped forward and assured the young man, "a parent, a sibling, or a child. Few families were spared the wrath of the bombs. Even out here, four people from this village died simply from breathing the fallout of the Dragonfire."

"We should have told you about your brother when we told you about your father," Thorin admitted. "But you were already such a lonely child. I thought it would only make it worse for you."

"He won't be lonely anymore," Ori promised. "He has us now."

But Kili had once had a brother.

With the look of a man defeated, Kili slunk back against the wall and said no other word throughout the evening. He was lost in thought about the kind of person his brother had been. Had they looked alike? Nobody could tell from looking at him, but Kili vowed then that he had to find this Thranduil person. Maybe he could tell him more. And he had a son his brother's age...

While Thorin spoke of the land, which sounded more and more perilous as the night progressed but also vaguely more and more like an El Dorado—he had read about that once—Kili slipped off to sleep.

When he woke up, he was in the back of a kindly rocking wagon and light streamed in through the cotton flaps shielding him from the land of the awake.

A hand reached forward past Kili's field of vision and smoothed the flap closed, cutting off the harshness of the sunlight.

"You had a lot to drink last night," Ori told him, as if Kili's pounding head weren't already reminding him. "Thorin had a hard time waking you this morning, so he just carried you out to the wagon." Ori looked a bit sad, largely due to the fact that Kili was so skinny that it hadn't been hard for Thorin to carry him. He had vowed silently to help Kili put some meat on his bones. "So, yes. Bilbo has a wagon. Thorin asked me to stay with you, in case you got sick again."

"I feel sick," groaned Kili as he rolled onto his back and screwed his eyes shut. The rocking of the wagon didn't help either, nor did the stifled air inside. "Let me go outside." Only when his stomach stopped roiling at every bump in the road was he able to think a bit more clearly—or as far as his headache would allow him, in any case. "Hold on, Bilbo has a wagon? Is he—are we leaving? Is he coming with us?"

"We traded for it from one of his neighbors," Ori explained, blushing a bit. "Seems they really liked my knitted items, and they hadn’t used the wagon in years. We were able to get a nice pony as well. Bilbo's driving the wagon. Gloin's helping. We've been traveling since dawn." He handed a dented metal flask to Kili. "This should help. Hair of the dog that bit you, and all that. Just one swallow though, okay?" he suggested. 

Wide-eyed and confused about it all, Kili took a careful sip. It burned, but oddly settled his stomach. He lay back down. "We're off to Erebor," stated he at length, with no mild amount of comprehension. "Did Thorin—did he mention my brother again, Ori? Did he talk about him when I was out?"

Ori shook his head. "Only to say that he shouldn't have. It just slipped out, you see," he looked down at his hands. "I understand why you're mad. If someone had kept my brothers hidden from me—as much as they irritate me sometimes—I'd be upset. But it's obvious he thought he was somehow protecting you."

Sliding open the curtain at the back of the wagon, Ori was surprised to see Nori's face nearby. He had surely overheard, despite acting as if he hadn't. 

"Are you two coming out?" the man asked with a half-scowl. "Lazy-asses. Bombur needs a turn on the wagon. His knees are hurting."

"Can I try driving?" Kili found himself asking. When his headache reminded him of why that was a bad idea, he elaborated, "Later?"

Their group had grown in ranks. Two people on their own in the wilderness had been a dangerous expedition, but now, with some fourteen men—despite it being a bad number, that was still a lot—Kili felt much safer. He could sense the same in Thorin, who had become more and more at ease in the group. He no longer told Kili to be quiet at night. Instead they joined in laughter around campfires or moved out to hunt. Game was still sparse, even more so with a group this size, but they made up for it in a sense of security.

Soon the land flattened out. One day, when the hills were just behind them, Dwalin joined Thorin at the vanguard.

"You know what we're getting close to," he said. "Maybe it's time you told the others."

Far in the distance, a dark line indicated the outer borders of a large forest. The Caledonian Forest—known these days by most as the Murky Woods. Most simply avoided them. They were rumored to be full of fugitives and gangs. Thorin had avoided them simply because they were the home of the odious Thranduil. And he hated Thranduil—hated him with the fiery heat of a thousand suns.

"I'll tell them tonight, when we settle down to camp," Thorin assured Dwalin. "If there were any way to go around..." He bit his lip indecisively.

"Oh, I'm sure there is. But that's several weeks’ detour at least." They both knew they didn't have the resources to last that much longer, despite how the Murky Woods looked like the war had hit it at its epicenter. The trees were blackened and gnarled the way that could only come from a forest fire and tree parasites. The woods manifested as a black mass upon the land, stretching out until fading into the horizon.

Dwalin sighed. Behind those woods lay their destination. "It'll be fine. Nobody lives in a place like that. We make sure we get a fair share of rations before we enter, and it'll be a safe place."

"That forest," Ori remarked, taking aim with his slingshot at a rabbit about twenty feet away, "it looks ...sick," he whispered, letting the stone fly. He was not at all surprised when the rabbit fell, stunned. When he ran to pick it up, a quick twist of its neck was the killing blow. They would eat for another day. Maybe two. "You should consider learning to use one of these," he told Kili. "It's a lot less messy than those arrows of yours."

"Arrows are faster," Kili said, but his eyes were not on Ori. The forest spread out wide and inescapable before them. Another day, maybe only half of one, and they'd be at its edge. Ori was right, it did look sick. There was a darkness that made him shiver. What was worse, there seemed to be no way around it. It was like the forest was a living wall stretching from north to south as far as the eye could see, and the only way across was through. A modern Hadrian's Wall. It also made him feel like they were locked in.

Kili got up to his feet from where they had taken a break. The day was damp and dreary. "I don't think we'll find anything alive in there. I can salt the meat of that rabbit for you, if you want?" He offered a friendly smile. "I'm glad you're here, you know."

Ori bumped his shoulder affectionately against Kili's. "Of course you are. I'm awesome," he chuckled, and handed the limp creature over. "Save the skin," he cautioned. "Nothing feels finer than boots lined with rabbit fur. I'll make you some."

Had Kili been more perceptive, he would have realized that Ori's kindness verged on more than just potential friendship. But he didn't, and in Ori's eyes that made him all the more desirable.

"This is the Caledonian Forest," Thorin said, for the benefit of those who didn't know. "Former home of Thranduil. I honestly cannot tell you what or who we'll find inside. But, as you can see, it is not a hospitable place. Secure any game you can. Start salting and drying it. Bombur and Bilbo, search for herbs and onions. I think that line of scrub over there might be a water source. Bofur, will you take Nori and fill our skins?"

"You've always been good at giving orders," Dwalin chuckled.

"Your uncle," Ori whispered to Kili, "he's bossy, isn't he?"

"I suppose. But we're all following him, so it makes sense, right?" A glance to the side, and Kili tilted his head suspiciously. "Why are you mentioning it?" He could still recall Ori having mentioned to be finding Thorin attractive, despite his suspicion that something was out of place between his friend and Dwalin too.

"No, no. I mean, the leadership skills… they’re good. It's just..." Ori frowned, tying shut the clasp on his knapsack, "how did you deal with him—day in, day out? Weren't you frightfully lonely, Kili?"

Kili shrugged. "I never knew any different. He'd tell me I couldn't leave the house and I'd be upset with him about that, but I understood it too. Where we come from, it wasn't safe. He always only meant what was best for us. Besides," he smiled, "if he was being unreasonable, Mum would call him out for it." He looked around the group, getting ready to go again. "It has never been like this, like I'm safe for once. There are so many people here. How could I feel lonely among so many friends, Ori?"

"I'm sure you were always safe," Ori sat down on a rock and opened his canteen, taking a long swallow. "I mean, you were a baby when all this happened. They cared for you. It would have been so much easier without a baby. I saw so many babies and children abandoned. It was horrible. And no one took care of them. Who could do that? Leave behind their own child? If I ever become a father..." he started, then sighed sadly. "Ah, well, that won't happen, of course. but I know I'd be a great dad."

"These woods used to be so welcoming," Bilbo remarked, coming up behind them. "We used to camp here and swim in the lakes. Now this forest is just ...eerie."

"Was it the war?" asked Kili whilst readjusting the string of his bow.

Balin unexpectedly spoke up. "No, lad, it was not. Several men have been to the edge of these woods since the war. They came back with stories. First they talked of a post-bellum paradise, a place that had survived it somehow. It made others want to go there, try their luck. But the stories changed, until nobody who went in ever came out again."

"But we're going in."

"Aye. Well, we're with many. I do believe we're safe."

"A post-bellum paradise," Bofur mused. "I'd consider any place with a warm bed and full English breakfast a paradise."

"I think your chances of finding that here are pretty slim," Dori adjusted his glasses on his nose. 

"I just hope there's more game in there than there is out here," Bombur lamented. "Larger game, perhaps. I'd love to be able to roast a boar for you lads."

"Now you're just torturing us with that kind of talk," Dwalin grunted.

"Get a good night's rest," Thorin told them all, in a gentler tone than before. "We'll head through at first light."

\- - - - -

That night, Kili couldn't sleep. He'd gone out for a short hunt to get them some extra food despite Thorin's advice not to, although on his return he had found out that none of the others had been able to fall asleep either. Now, hours after, he was still lying on his back, looking up at the sky.

Someone stirred to his left. Kili held in his breath, not to wake someone up, but when the rustling continued did he whisper, "Trouble sleeping too, Uncle?"

"Yes," Thorin answered him quietly from the dark. "I have many regrets, Kili. I regret sheltering you and your mother. And I regret keeping the fact that you had a brother from you. I hope you'll come to forgive me in time."

Kili shrugged passively. He felt strongly about it, but he understood why Thorin hadn't told him. "It's not your fault I never knew him, you know. And if you hadn't sheltered us, we wouldn't have made it that far, simple as that, isn't it? What was his name? What was my brother like?"

"He was so very young," Thorin whispered. "But he always had a kindness about him. A generous spirit, I guess you could say. He got that from your mother. He was blond. Although your father had dark hair, I suppose your brother got that color hair from someone on your father's side of the family. But he did have blue eyes, like your mother and I. His name was Fili. He was his father's son." Thorin was quiet for a few minutes. "I do hope they went quickly," he murmured before rolling over, ending the conversation.

A sadness washed over Kili as he turned the other way around. He would go to Erebor. On the way, he would visit his brother's final resting place, if they could find it. He must have been so scared when he died. Kili imagined a young boy of four, maybe five years old as he closed his eyes, running around laughing in the landscape of his dreams. He smiled to himself.

It wasn't a bad way to imagine him.

\- - - - -

The edge of the woods was comprised of trees that were little more than blackened stumps. A fire must have raged there once, but if it had, it had not gotten far; several yards in, they made way for towering walls of dead wood, equally black but far from brittle. They stood as tall sentinels, and if the road had not continued on into the woods, there would have been no gate allowing the company passage.

"Are you sure?" Bilbo checked again. "I'm sure there must be a way around. Right?"

"No path that we have the time or resources to pursue, Baggins," Dwalin gruffed on his left. "Through is the fastest way, and through we will go."

Thorin nodded. "He's right. The path is certainly wide enough for the wagon, which means it must be fairly well traveled."

"...Or a trap," Dori muttered.

"Keep a weapon close at hand, at any rate," Thorin couldn't explain it, but he felt _alive_. Even with the knowledge that they could meet bandits, or worse. "That goes for all of you." He eyed Ori, who was just finishing up a dark green wool cap and was shoving his knitting needles into his satchel.

Ori gave a sly smile to the man next to him. "D'you want it?" he asked Kili, holding up the cap. It looked very soft and warm.

"Absolutely." Rummaging into his bag—made of leatherwork, but also stitched together by Ori—he reached for a small wooden token he had carved earlier. A crooked but strong forked sling came out of the bag. They had been doing this throughout the trip, making each other small items to use. But Kili had to admit that the cap was more than their usual exchange. He smiled proudly at his friend. "No creature will see me coming when I wear this. Thank you."

"It'll also keep you from catching cold." Ori slipped the cap down over the crown of Kili's head. It fell just halfway down his ears, so he could keep the tips warm and still be able to hear. "A cold can be deadly, and you haven't gotten out much." Ori looked at him critically. "Green is a good color for you," he smiled softly, and confessed, "I couldn't sleep last night, so I knitted."

Kili's hands reached up to feel his ears, where Ori's had touched them seconds before. "It's perfect. Won't your brothers mind it?" They had been giving him suspicious and unsettling looks last few days. "Hey, want to ride on the wagon for a nap?"

"Mind it?" Ori chuckled, shrugging. "You needed a hat, didn't you? You know, the most challenging part of making a slingshot is finding just the right rubber. The better the drawback, the larger the game you can take down. I'm sure that somewhere in our travels we'll find something to turn this into a worthy weapon for you. You're going to love it." Ori pushed the fork of wood back into Kili's bag with a grin. "As far as that nap...maybe later. I'm too keyed up being in this forest. I'm sure it'll catch up with me later."

"Keep your eyes open, you two," Nori said without malice from nearby. 

"It's just trees," Ori whispered back. "Burnt, ugly trees."

And with that, they moved into the menacing forest. All of them kept their eyes open, as if bandits could suddenly surround them with nowhere to go. But a darkness crept up on them gradually. An hour in, the world was dimmed as in twilight. Yet, it was the middle of the day. 

An hour later, it was nearly pitch black. Thorin lit up a torch and they pressed on.

But another hour after that, with most of the men anxious about getting out of here and jumping at the slightest sound from the woods around them, light was gradually filtering back through foliage that did not now look as dead as the lack of light had made it appear before.

"Maybe the rumors are true," Bombur said, his voice sounding flat in the unusual atmosphere. "Maybe we are coming up on some sort of Shangri-La."

"What's a Shangri-La?" Ori muttered under his breath to Kili.

"Paradise," explained Kili. "I doubt this could be paradise." In his eyes, Bag End had come close to it, if everyone had decided to remain there and not continue on. It wouldn't be much of a paradise if Kili had stayed there by himself, with nobody to share things with, but with the others...

Here motes of pollen swam through golden flickers of light though, and moss was again beginning to cover the floor. The stones beneath their feet were coming up above the forest soil again, and when they did, they were clean, as if they were swept every day. Maybe they were. Kili shuddered. "Thorin?" he called out. "Do people live in these woods? You said it was Thranduil's home, before the war."

Thorin was warily looking around, and his vigilance more than answered Kili's concerns. His uncle raised a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. He nodded at Kili in understanding. _Keep quiet,_ the look conveyed. _I think you might be right._

The only sound for the next few minutes was the creaking of the wagon wheels as they labored over the stones. Occasionally the pony, Clover, let out a belabored huff of indignation at being made to travel so far.

"I feel as if we're being watched," Nori whispered to Dwalin. "You?"

Dwalin gripped his axe tighter, ready for whatever crossed their path. Following his example, others did the same. Kili readied an arrow and Ori took up his sling. Only Nori was in possession of a gun with bullets, yet he wasn't keen on using his precious ammunition and had instead fetched a halberd that he claimed he had found outside a museum once, a little after it had gotten plundered—not, he insisted whenever the subject was brought up, by himself.

They proceeded like that for a while. When no one showed however, several relaxed and soon they had all lowered their weapons.

None saw them coming.

Between one second and the next, they burst forth from the shadows like the tenth plague. Masked men dressed in beiges and camouflage and skinned in intricate black-inked tattoos. An arrow sailed past one of them, followed by a rock.

"You will not be harmed if you surrender peacefully!" a voice boomed from behind a brown mask. Long, braided pale hair hung down the attacker's back as he surveyed the chaos from atop a boulder.

"Surrender?" Bofur hissed. "Are we surrendering, Thorin?"

Ori's hand slowly crept towards his pocket, only to be stopped by a solid hand on his arm. "Don't," a voice behind the mask of a man who’d appeared beside him cautioned, not unkindly.

Kili's bow jotted an arrow between the man's blue eyes at once, to protect his friend. But Kili was no killer, and so his hand shook until he sent the arrow into the ground only an inch from the man's foot. "Not an accident," he warned. "Get away from him."

"Please," the voice, only slightly muffled by the mask implored, "keep your weapons lowered. Come peacefully. You cannot win this fight."

Ori's eyes fell to Kili's arrow—one of only three the young man claimed to own. Then he raised his eyes to lock with eyes of the man behind the mask nearby. 

Bilbo ducked inside his wagon and pulled out a pair of daggers. Hiding, he waited for Thorin's orders.

"Last chance!" the man on the rock called out. "We'd prefer not to kill you. We don't want to clean up the mess."

"And who's to say it won't be _you_ that needs mopped up?" Dwalin groused.

"There are far more of us than there are of you!" the tall blond on the rock informed him. "We've been watching you for hours. Come quietly." He gave his men a curt nod.

From all around them came the sound of metal weapons being unsheathed. The masked man standing next to Ori and Kili reached behind his back and pulled a pair of falchion from a leather holster strapped over his chest. They gleamed in the sunlight falling through the leaves.

Ori gave an involuntary cry, throwing himself in front of Kili. He let loose the small, dark pebble he'd sheathed in his slingshot. The stone glanced off the head of the man with the twin swords and he crumbled to the ground like a rag doll.

At Ori's act of aggression, Thorin gave a war cry and attacked the nearest bandit.

The attack was not what half of Thorin’s men were ready for. They tried to defend themselves with the steel they'd been carrying as well as they could. The problem was that they had no defense against what came next. A lone canister fell onto the forest floor, with several others soon following suit. The masked men took a step back. They let the smoke billow into their midst.

Kili panicked. He tore the mask off one man to hold in front of his own mouth for breathing, kneed him in the gut and edged to the line. A knock at the back of his head sent stars into his view, and he fell forward limply.

Dori waved his sword at anyone who came close to Ori. "Off!" he called out. "Get back, you vermin!"

Behind them, Balin stumbled to the ground, followed by Nori and Bofur, and then, one by one, the others.


	7. Fee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prisoner in the Caledonian jail, Thorin learns that his other nephew is still alive.

Legolas strode into his father's office and reached into the refrigerator, taking a beer without asking. "We brought in thirteen men traveling the North Road across the forest. They had a wagon and a pony—but more weapons than food."

Before his father could respond, Legolas popped the top and announced, "Fee got hurt. He tried to reason with them. He's in the infirmary. Got hit in the head with a slingshot."

Thranduil raised himself to his full height, took the bottle out of his son's hands and put it away. He kept his hand on the item. "You brought them in?! What use have we for thirteen men? There are strict rules for a reason, son. Take what they have and send them astray, that is what you do. But no, now we've got more mouths to feed."

His arms were covered in intricate dark-inked tattoos, where they emerged from under his jacket. Despite that roughness, his hair was a silken white, tied back for convenience, and his figure was delicate—as was it dangerous, like a coiled serpent. "Send them away."

Without another word, Thranduil raised his chin and pushed past him, towards the infirmary. A slingshot. One of his best men, felled by a slingshot. He had to meet the man who had been able to do that.

"Hold up, Dad!" Legolas pushed past some men in the hallway to follow Thranduil. "You'll want to see this lot. I know you know at least one of them. His name's Thorin Oakenshield. He used to live in Erebor."

At the name, Thranduil whipped around. "Oakenshield? How do you know? Did someone tell you? That's…” Well, not impossible, as it turned out, but Thorin had been hoarded up in a house in the highlands last Thranduil had heard. "Where did you take him? Take me there."

“To the cells, of course." Legolas raised one eyebrow. "They were pretty compliant once we gassed them. I'm not sure they're awake yet, to be honest. C'mon." He walked on ahead.

The jail was in the basement of the municipal building across the street from where Thranduil had set up his office. The barred door creaked open, loud in the eerie silence. Legolas and his men had put two of the prisoners in each of the six cells, except for the largest cell, which housed three. " _That's_ the one who shot Fee," he jerked his head in the direction of a slight redhead curled up on his side, eyes closed, "and there's Oakenshield," he pointed into the cell at the end of the row.

Thorin lay on his back in the middle of the floor, hair unbound and wild around him. He'd been stripped of all his outer coats, weapons and shoes. He had been placed in a cell with a significantly older man, whom Legolas had put on one of the bunks. None of the prisoners stirred. 

The lack of threat emanating from the redhead surprised and fascinated Thranduil only until his eyes caught sight of Thorin. Then his mouth warped into a snarl and his tread became a prowl. "Thorin. There he is at last." He looked around. "This man has a sister. Is she here, Legolas?"

"Thirteen were knocked unconscious by the gas, and I saw no one escape," he assured his father. "We found no women among them."

Legolas studied the scruffy man on the floor in front of him. "He doesn't look like much. I just remember you talking about him. What's his deal?"

"Self-righteous asshole who blames me for not jumping down the well after him when he did. He made sure everybody knew about the _lack of honor of Thranduil._ " Thranduil's voice lowered to match Thorin's. "A nasty rumor monger, that's what he is. I do believe he blames me for his brother-in-law’s death." He gestured in the direction of the infirmary. "Oh, and he’s also Fee's uncle. Keep them away from each other."

Thranduil walked back and forth in front of the bars that held Thorin captive. Without his weaponry or anything sharp, there was no way the man could get out of cells hewn out of natural cave. A shudder ran down his shoulders and back, and he whirled around suddenly, head high as he left.

"You mean..." Legolas followed after his father, "these are Fee's _family?_ We can't keep them prisoner like this, Dad."

"Tell that to Fee when he wakes up," scoffed Thranduil. "And just the one, over there. To be honest, I have no idea who half of them are. Riff raff found on the side of the street, most likely. If Fee wants to release them, he can go right ahead, but Thorin Oakenshield will not set a free foot among us if I can help it."

"He must have really rubbed you the wrong way," Legolas smiled. "From what I could gather, they were just trying to get to Erebor. Nothing wrong with trying to get home, is there? He's not bad looking, is he?" Legolas noted.

"What are you trying to say? Half the country blames us for the fall of his land," hissed Thranduil, "or what's still left of it anyway. I warned him against what would befall him, and never did he listen, but he expected me to throw down his life for his foolish dismissal? There is nothing good about that prideful man. If it's up to me, he will never reach his destination." He strode out and to the infirmary, to check up on his injured son. The price wasn't worth it. They should have left the company to their own defenses in the outer perimeters.

"I'm not trying to say anything," Legolas muttered. "I just...they didn't seem like they were here to make trouble. They were just passing through. They only fought back because one of them accidentally fired. I wanted to let them go. But when I found out it was Thorin..."

Thranduil was clearly not in the mood to talk however, especially not when it came to Thorin Oakenshield. He strode purposefully out the front door and down the block to a small medical building they had turned into the town's infirmary. "Good morning, Tauriel," he said to his trusted lieutenant standing guard in the lobby.

"Fee’s okay, Thranduil," she assured him. "He was awake and talking a few minutes ago. The doctor told him to rest."

Thranduil inclined his head and laid a hand on her shoulder. She was ever loyal. Without it being said, he knew she had been there when the strangers had been taken in, but he felt not like judging her for it today. "I'll only see him shortly." Then he walked past her and into the ward. 

In a post-apocalyptic world, the sick ward was a little miracle. It was sterile, the equipment orderly sorted, and it was functional. They had electricity available, powered by a several roofs supporting solar cells, and the walls were enforced. Nobody outside knew about its existence, which meant that nobody would come for it. It was camouflaged from the outer world; the interior however was spacious and primly white.

Sitting down next to one of the few beds, Thranduil breathed out. "Hello," he said gently, "gave me quite the scare, you did. How are you feeling?"

Fee cracked his eyes open and winced at the brightness. "It's only a lump," he murmured. "From a small rock. It didn't even bleed," he told Thranduil who, despite his cool demeanor, appeared concerned. "It was an accident, Dad," he assured him. "The man who shot me was scared. He didn't want to do it. You haven't... _punished_ anyone, have you?"

"We have them in custody." 

Truth be told, Thranduil wasn't sure how he was going to breach this subject. Fili knew that he was Legolas' stepbrother, and he had known it for a couple of years. But he didn't want to give Thorin that satisfaction. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why did you take them in? We’re only a small town. The more people know of us, the more dangerous it will be for you and I."

"It was Legolas' idea," Fee told him. "I guess he recognized one of the men from an old book or something. I don't know." He rolled on his side a bit, wincing slightly. "They just seemed to me like they wanted to cross to the other side peacefully. I think we should just give them back their weapons and food and let them continue on."

One of the wardens looked up when Thranduil reflexively got up to his feet at that. "Not their weapons," he said, but lowered his head when people started looking—though hardly because he felt that he should—and walked to the window. Lush vegetation made that the light filtering in had a green luster. He could have stood in a wild reserve and looked the same as he did then.

Thranduil let his hair down. The air was cool compared to outside. "You've always felt welcome here, haven't you?" he asked.

"Of course." Fee wrinkled his nose at the odd question. "You adopted me when my family died. I was a child with nowhere to go. You took me in. This is my home. The only home I remember." His eyes searched Thranduil's face. "We can't send them out into the world with no defense. They'll die from exposure or hunger if they have no weapons to hunt. What if they are set upon by Azog and his men? They'd be goners," Fee told him. "Since when are we cruel to those in need?"

When Thranduil next looked at him, his concern was disarming. He didn't want to say it, but if he did not, Fee would hold it against him one day. "What if I told you that one of them is kin?"

"Why on earth would you want to keep your own relative hostage, Thranduil?" Fee asked wearily. He'd seen Thranduil be petty for no seemingly good reason in the past. Yet he'd also heard that some families harbored silly feuds and grudges. "What did they do to upset you?"

"Persist in the folly of believing I was his downfall," came out from between pursed lips. "He's still dead to me, the bastard, and by his own doing. But he's not _my_ kin."

Thranduil turned away from Fee. He didn't want to witness the expression that followed.

"What are you saying, Dad?" Fee asked him, suddenly very wide awake. "Are you saying _I_ have family in our jail?"

Thranduil steeled himself. "Legolas told me your uncle was among them. Your mother's brother. The man I would rather never see again." He knew, of course, that Fee would go looking for him. Thorin would like that, to find out that he wasn't the last one surviving the destruction of his family. Thranduil assumed that, since Dis was not with them, she must have passed away. He hoped it wasn't the Dragonfire. No wonder Thorin had come back looking for Erebor; it sounded like the dream of a man who had nothing left to lose.

"You'll want to see him, don't you?" Thranduil sighed. "If you do, ask Tauriel to take you there. Just, please, keep in mind that you have a home here. I do not want to lose you, son. I doubt Legolas feels any differently."

Fee shot up in the bed and turned to stand, dangling his legs over the side of it. He quickly realized his mistake when a wave of dizziness came over him and threatened to pull him under. He reached for Thranduil, clutching his arm in support.

Frustrated, Fee pushed away and lay back down. "I'll have to wait a bit. I still feel a little sick," he admitted. Quietly, he added, "You told me all my family had died. I can only assume it's because you truly believed it...right?" Blue eyes full of trust studied Thranduil's face for signs of a lie.

This was going to be harder than Thranduil had hoped. He said, with greater urgency behind his words to be done with it soon, even though he was reluctant to speak at all, "We assumed so. I received word that he was alive a few years back, and in the weeks after I wrote to him about you. He never responded. I assumed he didn't want to talk to me, even if it was about you. I didn't tell you, because I didn't think you would want to be told you had family left if they remained silent. Listen, I will give you some time alone. You can go there wherever you want, but think about this. These woods are your home. I hope that someone who doesn't care to send back word about you will not change that."

Thranduil bowed his head and walked away. This conversation hadn't strengthened him. If anything, his knees felt weaker.

As he walked away, he heard Fee give a barely-disguised gasp of realization. Thranduil cast his eyes down. He wondered how much longer he'd be able to keep the man who was like a son here with him.

Fili. That was Fee’s given name. He'd been all of five years old when his father, brother-in-law to Thorin through his sister, Dis, had come to Caledonia. Back then, the boy couldn't bear to be separated from his father, Vili, and even though a certain war was encroaching, Vili had brought the little one along with him on yet another of Thorin's ill-conceived diplomatic missions.

As if anyone, even an adorable golden-haired lad who got along famously with Thranduil's own little boy, would convince the master of the Caledonian Forest to come to the aid of a bunch of rich, privileged—

He sighed. So many years had passed. Nearly twenty. When the bombs began to fall, Thranduil—against his better judgment—had insisted that Vili and Fili stay behind in the village in the woods where they'd be safe. But Vili wanted to return home to his people, to his pregnant wife. He left foolishly, taking the wee one with him. Thranduil would never forget the fearful look in the little boy’s huge blue eyes as Vili led him away on the back of a pony. 

The bombs fell within two hours of their departure.

Nearly a week after the dust settled, Thranduil and his people set out looking for survivors. They came upon a badly ravaged farmhouse, decimated and scorched by the blasts. The scouting party had turned away to continue their search for survivors when a small sound, barely louder than the mew of a kitten, called them back into the rubble. There a horrible sight met them. Father and son, they found. Vili, who had thrown himself on top of Fili, was dead—his body charred nearly beyond recognition and half buried by rubble.

But the little boy trapped underneath his father's body for six long days was not. Fili, despite his father's efforts to protect him, had suffered serious burns along his right side, from his shoulder to his knees, was dehydrated, and had fallen into a delirium. Thranduil's doctor friend felt the lad might not survive and suggested he be put down, mercifully. But Thranduil wouldn't hear of it. He brought Fili back to Caledonia. It was touch and go with him for weeks, as Fili recovered from his injuries and dehydration. He continued to weep for his father and his family night and day.

At long last, the flesh began to knit, although deep blue keloids now colored the boy’s pale skin like splashes of paint. Fili had been traumatized much more than any five-year-old should be. Thranduil knew it still wasn't safe enough to begin searching for any surviving family. He saw no other way but to take the lad in and raise him as a brother to Legolas.

\- - - - -

"I feel sick," Ori whimpered, curling in on himself and squeezing his oldest brother's hand through a gap in the bars of their cells.

"Oh, Ori." A worried hand squeezed Ori's. "What's the matter? They shouldn't have treated you like that. It wasn’t your fault. But we're going to be fine, aren't we? We're going to make it through this." 

But Dori wasn't quite as comfortable as he tried to make himself out to be. He looked around at the silent guards. One of them raised a brow and met his look square on.

From one of the other cells came a disturbance. Oin appeared before the bars of his own cell, squinting his eyes and wriggling his nose. "Anybody?" he asked. "Where are we?"

"This is Caledonia," Dwalin told them, "center city of the forest. It appears they have plenty of surprises."

"It's so _bright,_ " Ori groaned. 

"They have electricity!" Dori told him quietly. "Electric lights. You probably barely remember them."

Ori expected to find Kili squinting when he turned to him, but Kili's eyes were wide with fear from where he sat, imprisoned in the same cell as Bombur.

It was Bofur who broke the uncomfortable silence by rattling the bars to test how strong the stone holding them was.

"Stop that," hissed a guard like he was an unruly pet, more annoyed with the noise than out of fear that the prison cells would not hold. He kicked the bars hard and turned away, at which Kili pressed his hands against his ears and screwed his eyes shut. He wished his uncle was here. Or that he could see Ori. The only thing that was there was Bombur, and he was still passed out.

"If they have electricity," Ori voiced what all of them are thinking, "why aren't they sharing the technology with the rest of the world, trying to get things up and running again?"

"Because, lad," Gandalf answered Ori's question, locking his eyes with the guard outside his cell, "they don't want to share. Am I wrong?" he asked the guard, not breaking eye contact.

The guard pretended that he didn't hear, and kept a stiff jaw.

"Are you all right, Kili?" Thorin called out to his nephew in the chaos. He feared that these surroundings, especially the surprise of electricity, had to be frightening his nephew.

"Uncle Thorin?" Kili called back, a tremble in his voice. His arms were wrapped protectively around himself. "What is this place? Where are we?" He only saw walls and men dressed in strangely new clothing—new like his own had been, many years ago. They wore tattoos and they held on to large weaponry that Kili didn't recognize but which looked threatening all the same. All the resources that had become a rare commodity for him years back, they were abundant here. He wouldn't be surprised if this place had the medicines that his mother had needed to get well.

The bright lights outside his cell hurt his eyes.

Bombur next to him stirred once, but remained otherwise unconscious. Kili bit his lip. "What do they want with us?"

"This town," Thorin told him, "Caledonia, it's the home of the man who refused to take in our women and children when the bombs were threatening to fall. As a last ditch effort, I sent your father and brother here. They never made it home. His grievance...it's with me."

"Two of my children died in that siege!" Gloin called out, his shaking voice controlled but hinting at deep-seated anger. "If Thranduil had taken them in, they might still be alive today."

"The man who rules here, he's responsible for dad's—" Kili clapped a hand before his mouth. That was much, much worse than the bright lights around him. Kili felt physically sick. "We're in the captivity of a murderer, you mean?"

"If anyone is responsible for the deaths of your father and brother, it's me," Thorin said quietly. "I sent them here."

More to himself than to anyone else, Kili muttered, "To be safe." His arms were still wrapped around his shoulders, cradling himself in a small enough ball in the corner of the cell. They were in the lion's den. "We should have gone around the woods. We should have never come here. Bag End would have been more than fine."

"Bag End?" one of the guards asked. "You come from Bag End?"

"Silence," hissed another. "Nobody talks to the prisoners but Thranduil."

"Yes," Bofur leaned forward earnestly, grasping the bars with both hands, "we just came from Bag End. Dreadful place. Nothing like the legends say."

"And yet you'd rather be _there_ than here." Another man came in, this one tall and lanky, and more than a little threatening. His hair was a waterfall of pale moonlight. There was nothing lovely about it. He crouched down before Bofur's cage. "Dreadful place, you say. Then you wouldn't mind pointing us to it."

"We had to see if the rumors were true," Bofur told him. "About the gardens and such. But you don't want to go there. Half the population's dead, and the other half's inbred with radioactive mutants."

"It's true," Balin picked up the story, offering his most solemn look. "They chased us away with pitchforks and scythes. It was a horrible town."

"Like something out of a bad zombie movie," pitched in Bofur.

"And there weren't no gardens, either," Dwalin said quietly. "It's all just stories mothers tell their children so they go to sleep and have happy dreams."

The young man with the white hair smirked. "So, someone tell us where it is. You would tell us if the stories you concoct are true, but none of you has given me directions so far. We've heard stories about the place among ourselves, too. We would love to see it at long last."

"We'd be quite willing to share that information with you," Thorin told the guard, "if we weren't being treated as prisoners. As it stands, we're unjustly imprisoned merely for trying to protect ourselves. You're a seemingly civilized town, yet you seem to have done away with due process. I'd like to speak with someone in charge."

"You were _trespassing_ , Thorin Oakenshield. Do not think I don't know your name. You would recognize my father's, and you would recognize me if you only looked at me. These are not your lands. Tell me you would not have done the same with anyone unjustly trespassing into your own land." Legolas stood tall and proud.

"We didn't know they were your lands, all right?!" Kili cried out suddenly. "Leave us alone!"

Legolas chuckled, but the sound was not a warm one. "This one has your attitude, Oakenshield," he yanked his head in Kili's direction and examined him. "He looks like you, too. Your son?"

"Nephew," Kili let out before he realized he should have denied it. He tried to push himself further back into the cell, only to have Bombur stir again. "We never did you harm. Just let us go."

"About that you are correct," Legolas agreed. "Most of you anyway. But for some reason my father has issues with your seemingly fearless leader." His eyes swept over Kili from the tips of his toes to the tousled dark hair at the top of his head. "I didn't realize outlanders could be so handsome," he whispered, so that only Kili could hear.

And Kili, well, Kili could only stare. The comment was highly inappropriate for the situation—Kili was a captive, not someone at the same level of freedom—and yet nobody had really shown him that kind of attention before. Sure, he had kissed a daughter of a traveling man stopping by at their cottage when he was eleven, and he had tried to like her even if that tell-tale spark that was mentioned in his books had never come. He had suspicions about himself that didn't make it better. Kili frankly expected to remain alone for the rest of his life. Yet here his captor showed an interest. Unless...

"Are you talking about Thorin?" he asked back with a curious frown. Ori had shown interest in Thorin too, after all. It wasn't too far of a stretch.

The blond snorted. "I am not interested in old men," he smiled at Kili, still whispering. "I get the feeling you don't know much about the world, do you?"

"Leave him alone!" Even though Ori couldn't hear much of what Legolas was saying, his body language was enough for Ori to perceive him as a threat and he felt compelled to draw him off.

"You, my trigger-happy friend, are lucky to be alive," Legolas turned languidly and approached the bars to Ori's cell. "Do you realize the man you knocked unconscious was my brother? The son of the leader of this town?"

"If he's even half the pompous arsehole you are," Ori met his gaze evenly, "I'm glad."

"He isn't," Legolas conceded. "You'll eat those words soon enough, Red."

Dori jumped in between them before Ori could say anything to make it worse. "That is my brother you're talking to," he said like only a mother could, "mind your tongue!"

While the distraction drew the conversation away from Bag End, Kili was shaking in his cell. His uncle, the only man who had been able to protect him in the past, was locked in, a cell away, and one of their captors had just proclaimed he might be more than professionally interested in him. While the man didn't look bad, Kili felt vulnerable. And it scared him.

Legolas grinned as another man came in, shorter than he, tousled and still a bit pale. "Well, speak of the devil."

Fee stood in the center of the two rows of cells, eyes slowly moving over the occupants for signs of recognition. He saw the red-haired man who had shot him. That was a face he's never forget. The man was slight, smaller even than him, and seemed to shrink in on himself under Fee's gaze. In the next cell was another younger man, handsome, with dark eyes. The rest were all older—some significantly so. And one of them was his uncle. His eyes finally came to rest on a middle-aged man with long dark hair and bright blue eyes.

"Are you Thorin?" he asked him. "Thorin Oakenshield?"

"Who wants to know?" Thorin held his chin up and observed the stranger. He didn't look like the others. There was something oddly familiar about him. But Thorin couldn't allow himself to let his guard down.

"Legolas, will you release this man from this cell?" Fee asked his brother. "I wish to speak with him—privately."

Kili pushed himself against the bars wide-eyed when he heard. He watched as Thorin stood up to his full height, observed the stranger and inclined his head. One of the guards unlocked the door and gestured for him to turn around. Thorin was cuffed and told to follow. There was nothing Kili could do. He wanted to speak, but one look from Thorin silenced him.

"Will you take me to Thranduil?" Thorin asked, a lilt of venom added to the name alone, as they walked away from the others.

"I will," the blond told him. None of the guards had felt like arguing with Thranduil's son about his request, lest they wind up on the sharp end of Thranduil's justice. "But first, I need to ask you something. Does the name Fili mean anything to you?"

"...Did your father tell you about him? That's a cruel thing to ask me." By now Thorin had pieced together that the two men were Thranduil's own. He kept his eyes trained on the floor and noticed a threshold, after which he heard a door close. "Fili was my nephew. He died in these woods."

"Is that what Thranduil told you?" Fee wondered, "Or did you just accept it to be the truth and never go searching for your lost kin?"

"What do you know?" spat Thorin. "He died along with his father. I journeyed to his grave, many years ago. There was nothing we could do. The war came fast. Thranduil knows all this. I see no point in you making me repeat it."

"Did Thranduil ever," Fee's voice wavered, because he feared he already knew the answer, "did he ever try to contact you, to let you know your nephew had survived the bombs? That he was still alive?"

Thorin stopped. The man was lying, he had to be. But if he spoke the truth...

Thorin had seen the graves. No, the man had to be lying.

"I have not heard from him since he decided to break our alliance. You are saying that he lives?"

"I..." Fili pressed a hand to his mouth, "I was only a little boy," he tried to explain. "I could never have left alone to find you all, even if I wanted to. Thranduil told me your city had been lost. That you were all dead...."

"...You?"

Thorin saw it then, those little things that reminded him of Vili, but Dis' eyes—his eyes. He felt the strength drain from his limbs and nearly sank to the floor. 

Fili was supposed to be dead. 

If only Dis had known.


	8. The Best Drink in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin reunites with Fili, and with Thranduil. Kili meets someone he finds attractive. So does Bilbo.

Thorin's eyes watered, and his voice was hoarse when next he spoke. "Fili? You've lived here, all these years? How?"

"Thranduil told me they found us in a farmhouse, between here and Erebor." Fili told him. "They buried everyone they found there, including the family who gave us shelter. The grave you saw next to Dad's must have belonged to one of them." He paused, studying Thorin's face. The man believed him. "I don't really remember much from back then. I remember running, hiding...and a lot of loud sounds. Burning...horrible pain all along my side." He absently gestured the length of his right side. "The pain lasted a long time. I have burns, like so many do. I can't remember what happened to Dad. Doctor Bombadil said I blocked it out. I don't want to remember. But I also cannot remember my former home."

"Why, you were young." Thorin wanted to walk up to him and study his face, hold him close, check if he was real. Fili looked like a healthy man, and there was no doubt that they were kin. He looked like Dis in so many ways, and he had the same sparkle in his eyes as Kili. A weight fell off Thorin's shoulders--or perhaps it was the unexpected happiness that made the world easier to bear. "Our house was small, unsafe after the war. They raised you well here. I have little respect left for Thranduil, but at least you grew up here and not in the devastation out there. If only your mother could have seen you now. She would have been so proud. And your brother. Do you remember him? He was still in your mother's belly when the war started, but you used to talk to him at night through her skin."

Fili reached to the key ring on his belt and retrieved a small key, with which he uncuffed Thorin. "Mother..." he began, trying to piece her face together her from the fragmented images in his head in his head. "Is she--is she still alive? Do you have a picture of her?"

Pictures had become a lost commodity since the war, but Thorin reached in his pocket and took out a folded piece of paper. "Kili drew her portrait, a few months before she passed away. She would have survived, I think, with the right medicines. I'm sorry, Fili."

With trembling hands, Fili unfolded the paper. There she was, Dis, his mother--the woman whose face he had agonized over trying to remember for years. "Oh," he whimpered. "Mom. W-was it the radiation?" he asked, sniffling, returning the paper to Thorin.

"It was the radiation."

Suddenly, Thorin was glad they had gotten caught here in the woods. They would have passed through the forest without ever knowing that Fili was out there, had they not. Thorin would have missed him and never known that he had.

"She was a strong woman," he said fondly. "She fought until the end. I miss her every day, Fili, I do, but I believe that when she passed, she went in peace. It would have made her so happy...so happy..."

"I...I trusted him," Fili lamented. "He took me in, saved my life, fed me and raised me. When he said you were all dead, I believed him. Thorin, why wouldn't I? Ah, god!" he spun, kicking away a rolling chair, knocking a lamp off a desk. "He lied! He kept me from my family!" Anguished, Fili stood, panting. "My little brother..." he asked, so quietly that Thorin could barely hear him. "Is he dead too?"

"Kili is here, with us." Thorin finally stepped forward to place a hand on Fili's shoulder. They were both a mess. "I do not like that man. He was a friend until he betrayed us. But Fili, you are alive! I don't want to think of a man like Thranduil when you've just told me the best news I could have been given."

Fili nodded in understanding. "I think I want to hug you, Uncle Thorin. Is that all right?"

"More than all right," smiled Thorin with tears in his eyes. He held out his hands and gathered Fili in them. It was right. Thorin could live here for the rest of his life, not making it to Erebor, I'd only he could be with his family. "This is unreal. You're here though. It's really you. Come," Thorin said proudly, "let me introduce you to your brother. He would love to meet you."

Fili deeply inhaled the smell of Thorin. The faint scent of pipe tobacco brought back strong memories and he didn't want to let go. "My brother," he whispered into Thorin's chest, "he's not the one who hit me with the slingshot, is he?"

Muffled against Fili's shoulder, Thorin faintly shook his head and chuckled. "That's Ori. He's a good kid. He must have been frightened and shot you by accident. The kid's got a mean talent with that slingshot though, so take it easy for a few days. Kili is in the last cell with a man named Bombur." He sighed, regret in his voice. "He's never seen electrical lights before. He must be terrified. I tried to keep him safe, but all I managed to do was keep him sheltered."

"If anyone's sheltered, it's me," Fili told him, finally pulling out of the embrace. "Raised here with electricity, plenty to eat, in safety, while so many others are dying out there. Why are we holed up here instead of trying to get the world back in working order? I don't understand!"

The speech reminded Thorin so much of his sister that his mouth went dry.

Fili leaned over and picked up the lamp and moved the chair back into position. "I'm going to take you to see Thranduil," he told him. "It's not a conversation that I want to stick around for, though. Legolas!" he called to his adopted brother. "Can we get this man some shoes? I'm taking him to see Father!" 

"Already?" asked Legolas with a frown. "And why isn't he in cuffs?" Nevertheless he procured some decent footwear lined with fur, thoroughly unfit for escaping in, but perfectly comfortable for indoors. When he came within Fili's reach, he leaned in to whisper, "You should rest, brother," and gave him a concerned glance that said that he meant it.

Thorin was led further into the forest city and up until they left the prison cells behind. In their stead rose a lush land of trees, technology and winding paths. It was paradise; there was no other word for it. Thorin looked at it all with his mouth open. "It's as if this place actually thrived after the war. How is that possible?"

"The bombs didn't fall here, and, as luck would have it, the fallout was blown away from us. We were very fortunate. A few people got sick from the radiation, but we had medicine. They either recovered or they didn't. I suppose Fee told you who he is," Legolas said sadly, "that he isn't really my brother."

For the first time Thorin was made to consider the other side of the coin. "I'm sorry," he said. "I remember when you were kids. You were best friends whenever you were around each other. I didn't mean to come between that. In fact, I didn't come here expecting to find him in the first place. I'm a fortunate man, Legolas."

They ascended a large staircase, moss growing at the edges like the stone emerged from it organically. It was a beautiful place. The guards however made sure there was no mistake; this was a world on its own, and strangers were not welcome.

"Thorin Oakenshield," spoke a theatrical voice. Thorin cringed. He knew that voice all too well. "There you are. Come closer, old friend."

Thorin turned, and there he was--Thranduil, bane of his existence. "I am not your friend," Thorin assured him, " _kidnapper._ " That, he simply added for good measure.

"Still, Thorin?" Thranduil shook his head. He was sat on a seat large enough to be a throne. Where marble ended, moss and metal fortifications started. Once, this must have been a town square. Its street lights still appeared to be working, and there was a pavement of cobblestone. The weather was nice enough for Thranduil to use it as a garden, with the base of a giant antler statue converted into a comfortable chair--placed high enough for him to be looking down on everyone else.

Thranduil waved his hand. "I only recently found out that my men had caught you. They mentioned a group of bandits to me at first. Of course, if you'll accept it, I can prepare quarters for your company. But I must say, I do wonder what brings Thorin Oakenshield to these woods at last."

"Don't embarrass yourself by asking, Thranduil," Thorin scoffed at the surroundings. "You know why I'm here. My men and I were going to see if there was anything left of Erebor. We merely took the shortest route. While I did suspect we might run into you, I never in my wildest dreams expected to find my nephew here, alive." Thorin swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I can understand your ongoing animosity towards me, Thranduil, but to keep a son away from his mother and brother. It's...it's cruel. Cruel beyond even what I thought you were capable of."

"Animosity?" Thranduil sat forward in a way that conveyed that he truly did not understand. "When have I given you animosity, Thorin? It was you who said you did not want to see me again; you who told everyone who would listen of how terrible I was. I reached out to you many times. You left me no choice but to raise a child that would have otherwise died. Do not tell me of my _ongoing animosity_ towards you." His genial bearing was quickly crumbling. "Erebor is a wasteland. Save yourself the trouble and go home."

"I may well do that," Thorin quickly began to realize that his perception of what passed as the war commenced varied greatly from his captor's. "But not without my men and all the supplies we came with. And not without Fili."

"Fili is a grown man. I do not get to make choices that are his to make." Cold as ice was the look Thranduil gave Thorin. Here was a man come to take away one of his sons. "As always, you believe the world must yield to your version of it. Very well. You leave in the morning. Let it be known Thranduil does not hold back old friends."

No love was lost between them as Thranduil got up and gestured for the guard. "Take him away."

"My requests have never been unusual, selfish or hard for you to accommodate," Thorin argued. "You have just always viewed me as a nuisance. It's a shame," he followed up with, "I have some very gifted men with me. We could certainly be of use, if you weren't so quick to condemn us."

"You wish to leave though, don't you?"

"Yes, of course we wish to leave," Thorin stood his ground. "I need to see with my own eyes the fate that befell my home. What sort of leader would I be if I didn't offer my men--particularly my own kin--at least that?"

"I told you, Fili will follow his own path. Stop making his decisions for him."

With another gesture, Thranduil indicated that he was done with him. A guard started leading Thorin away, back to his cell.

\- - - - - 

Meanwhile, the lights in the cells had dimmed to a faint glow. Night was now approaching. As was the rumble coming from Bombur's belly as it complained for food. Kili found that it only made his hunger worse and the situation less easy to process. They were locked underground with a group of people, some of whom seemed to already know Thorin. "So who's this Thranduil, really?" he asked finally. "How does he know us?"

At that moment, as if scripted, a young blond man with long hair tied back at the nape of his neck appeared at the jail's doorway. 

"I've brought food and drinks," he told them all, handing out brown paper bags and bottles of water. He saved Kili's cell for last. "I thought you might want to try this." Through the bars of the cell, he handed Kili a bright red can of Coca-Cola. "I'm not sure how it'll taste, after all these years. But, well, it's cold."

"My god!" Bombur gasped. "You have Coke! I'd sell my soul for one of those, lad. Here, let me show you." He took the can from Kili and popped the top, which hissed admirably."It's still got some juice," he smiled, handing the can over. "Give it a taste, Kili."

Kili's eyes were not on the can.

He stared openly at the blond outside his cell. Ori had whacked him over the head good with one of his deceptively harmless-looking rocks, and a band-aid covered the injury. What was more striking though was something else. All his life Kili had wanted to meet people of his own age that he could be friends with. Ori had been the first one, except for a few travelers, and he had assumed not to meet many more of them still. Except here all the guards were young. One of them had even called him handsome. Kili now extended that same sentiment to the man bringing them food; but not out loud, of course.

Reluctantly he pulled away to try the drink. Because he had never had anything carbonated before, he frowned at the bubbles, drew away after the first sip, looked at Bombur again as if reevaluating his esteem of the man's taste, and took another gulp. "...That's nasty!"

"It's the best drink in the world!" Ori called over. "Let me have it!"

"Do you really not like it?" Fili asked the brunet. "If so, I will give it to your friend. I have cold water too," he explained.

"Too sweet," Kili complained. He handed back the can, missing Bombur's desperate look, and waited for the cool water. Kili had grown up on boiled water that was always still lukewarm when he drank it. Cold sounded a lot more divine than warm licorice water. "What's in the paper bags?"

"Sandwiches," Fili told him. "Chicken and lettuce. We bake the bread here."

"This is delicious," Bofur smacked with his lips over his already claimed sandwich. 

"You'll be freed soon," Fili assured them all. "I'm certain of it. My father said--"

"You're Thranduil's son?" Dwalin wondered.

"Well, yes, I--"

"We thank you kindly for the food, young man," Balin told him. "But we mustn't chat with you. Our leader wouldn't appreciate it."

Fili nodded. "I understand." He gave Kili one last look, and handed him a bottle of water. "Here you go." He left, after giving Kili a soft smile.

The bottle turned out to be wildly interesting, but Kili couldn't help but curse Balin a little for telling the man off. He had only come here bringing food. Besides, Kili had found him fascinating. Of course, it figured that he had to be Thranduil's son. Curiously unscrewing the cap, Kili leaned back again and observed his magazine-worthy sandwich. "So ... Thranduil?" he asked Bombur. "Apparently Uncle and he have business, right?" He turned the sandwich over, then scrambled to keep everything together. He was used to either stale bread or meat from the hunt. None of that layering them on top of each other. "This is how food used to be?"

"It's not exactly fine dining," Bombur smiled, "but the sandwich was the most popular thing for lunch for over a hundred years. The bread holds it all together, you see. You haven't lived until you've had a toasted brie and turkey ciabatta with a spoonful of strawberry jam in it," he chuckled. "One of my many creations.

"I haven't lived then," admitted Kili. "Maybe they've got the ingredients here. Try asking that man who brought us food." But at the next words, Kili quieted and picked at his sandwich. 

"Anyway. Thranduil," Bombur contiued. "Thranduil's the man your uncle was talking about last night before we came into these woods. The one who turned away the refugee women and children from Erebor when the bombs were about to fall. It was he that your wee brother and father had come to see when they died."

"Oh. So Thranduil is a big asshole. Got it. Doesn't make sense though, why he'd lock us up here if he didn't want to give us refuge. Say," he edged forward, "do you think anyone here will remember my brother? I could ask. I mean, they said so before. He was friends with Legolas."

"I'm not sure lettin' these folks know that you're a relative of Thorin's is an especially good idea," Bombur said gently, eyebrows raised. "And if they'll be lettin' us go, I don't plan to stick around long enough to swap recipes, if you know what I mean."

"It's so unfair," moaned Nori. "They have refrigerators, electricity, medicine..."

"I could build solar panels just like the ones that power this place," Gandalf told them all, "with the right materials, of course. And I'm betting Gloin here could repair any generator we found. Am I right?"

"Right as rain, Gandalf," Gloin nodded. "With Bilbo's gardens and everyone using his own skills, there's no reason why we can't rebuild."

Nobody wanted to comment on the fact that Bilbo was not currently among them and might in fact be a chance lost, in case any of the guards heard.

"Because of the fallout, that's why." Kili sat there, incredulous. How could they forget? "We don't have any materials for solar panels, and we can only hope the soil is fertile enough to grow anything. But we shouldn't depend on that expectation, right? Look at these people. They have it all, and I don't think it's because they had to rebuild. Solar panels won't get us back canned drinks or medicine."

But he felt sorry for saying it when he saw Bombur's face. Kili hung his head. "Sorry. I wouldn't tell them he was my brother, you know. But it's just, you know, this place has it all. We can't expect Erebor to be like this. Besides, we're very much stuck."

There was a clamor, and Thorin was escorted into the room. By his side stood Thranduil's oldest son. He looked around and declared, "Get a good night's rest. You will be dropped off at the borders tomorrow morning, courtesy of my father."

Kili stared. When Bombur looked at him, he mumbled, "Okay, I take that back."

"My guess is," Balin said softly, "that Thranduil's still got some guilty feelings about not giving us aid when we asked for it. Or perhaps it has something to do with the deaths of your father and brother. Regardless, it seems too good to be true, doesn't it?"

"We can only hope they return our belongings--the weapons, warm clothing and the wagon," Dwalin said. "Otherwise we'll be sitting ducks out there."

\- - - - - 

Bilbo, who had ducked inside the wagon and hidden in a secret compartment under its seat when the villagers attacked, stayed in that cramped up position as his comrades' unconscious bodies were loaded into the wagon and rolled into Caledonia, then unloaded and taken away to prison. He stayed hidden until the wagon had been parked and unloaded, and did not dare much of anything until silence was all around him. Then, and only then, did he push out the fake runner and poke out his head.

Fading sunlight streamed through a crack in the canvas. He was climbing out to survey his surroundings when a blond head poked its way through the opening and climbed into the wagon, dropping the contents of his arms with a grunt. Before Bilbo could again hide, he found himself face to face with Fili.

"I won't hurt you," Fili told him quickly, equally surprised, holding up his empty hands. "Are you with Thorin?"

"I'm alone," Bilbo shook his head fervently. He looked for a way around the man, but all roads out of the cart invariably passed his reach. That meant he had to keep him occupied and distracted until he was able to maneuver them around. "I'm sorry. I overheard about where they were going when they passed by my house. I snuck in when they weren't looking. But I'm not _with_ them, if the owners of the cart are who you're referring to. An older couple with their son, right?"

"Please don't be afraid of me," Fili said to him. "You don't need to be. I'm...I'm a relative of Thorin's. His nephew."

" _Thorin?_ " Bilbo wiggled his nose. "Nope, never heard of him. Now if you'll just..." he gestured Fili moving aside.

"Sir...I..." FIli sighed. "Look, if you want to leave this wagon, you'd best come with me. Otherwise, you'll be seen and locked up with your friends."

Bilbo grew frustrated. "And where would you take me instead? You know it's easy to say you're one of Thorin's undoubtedly many nephews, seeing as he's not here to deny it. That doesn't mean I should trust you."

"Do what you will, then," Fili told him. "I merely came here to load up the wagon. Thorin and his companions are being released in the morning. I wanted to make sure all their belongings were returned to them. If you're smart, you'll stay hidden until then."

"Wait. Wait, wait. They're released in the morning, you say? So you're taking this wagon...where exactly?" Well, that would make getting everyone out much, much easier. "Aren't you the one Ori knocked out? You know, which got us all in this mess in the first place?"

"Yes, that was me," Fili frowned and bit his lip distracted. "You traveled through the woods. That's all it took. And, Thranduil has issues with Thorin. Long-time animosity. I will never understand it. The world has fallen apart, there are so few of us left. And yet we still want to kill one another. Here." He pulled a bottle of water from the pocket of his baggy coat. "You must be thirsty."

Bilbo eyed the bottle warily. Then again, if this man had wanted to kill him, he could have done so on several occasions already. Thirst overcame him at last, and he reached for the bottle. "Thorin and this man called Thranduil. I told them to travel around it, but no. Now look what it got us into." As the cool water fell down his throat, Bilbo groaned. It was mineral water, from a natural source that had to be nearby. It was good. "So, why haven't you put me with the others yet?"

"What's the point?" Fili wondered. "Do you feel you _need_ to be locked up?"

"No, but I'm expecting you to. You're with the ones who locked everyone else away."

"Around here, you do what Thranduil tells you to," Fili explained, "or you leave."

Bilbo tentatively tried, "And you don't want to leave, but he's not here now, so you're okay with me here as long as I don't cause trouble for you?" He sighed out in relief. "Well, you're certainly the nicest bandit I've met. I'm Bilbo, Bilbo Baggins. What's your name?"

"We aren't bandits," Fili insisted. "I'm sure it looks that way. We have a very nice town here. A _safe_ one. But it doesn't happen without work. We all work hard. Everyone has a job. Everyone needs to learn a trade vital to sustaining us. I'm Fee," he told Bilbo, extending his hand. "I work in the school. I teach and help take care of the kids. I also help on the farm in the morning. What do you do?"

"You have kids?"

Not having seen children for years, Bilbo nearly asked Fili to take him there and show him. Kids had become rare after the war. Most didn't survive the first few years, if they were born at all. They had all heard the stories.

Bilbo looked down at his feet, still pleasantly shielded from the world by the canvas of the wagon. "I'm a farmer. I grow things and I eat them, I suppose. You're not a bad fellow, Fee. I'll stay in the wagon and wait for them, if that's okay. Though you make me wish I could see more of this place before we go."

"Yeah, we have kids," Fili smiled. "About thirty or so. Aren't there kids where you come from?" Fili seemed distressed by the notion. "They're taught history, mostly. Not by me, of course. I was just little myself when the war happened. I teach life skills. Cooking, tailoring, cobbling, grooming…that sort of thing. And some literature. Come," he gestured to Bilbo. "I can show you the school and our gardens." He leapt from the wagon and waited for Bilbo to follow.

By now Bilbo was no longer afraid of the man. The hooded cloak he flung over his shoulders to hide his identity was solely for anyone else they might come across while they headed there. Bilbo explained why there weren't many kids left. He had only seen a few in his life; they had almost all been little beggar children.

He nearly cried when he saw a classroom filled with some ten little kids on benches, scribbling down notes. Even those who weren't doing much studying behind the teacher's back were little miracles in his eyes. "Oh, it's so good to see them," he whispered. "I haven't seen a sight so hopeful in years. Keep them here when they grow up. Don't let them see the world outside."

"I have higher hopes for them than to be sheltered here all their lives like I was," Fili whispered. "We're going to fix the world."

Bilbo smiled then. Their technologically superior assailants seemed to be invested in the world outside after all. "You're a wonderful person. Can I say you are a wonderful person? It almost makes me want to stay here and contribute. Of course, Thorin wouldn't be very happy if I did that. Say," and a hopeful look came upon him, "you don't happen to have pipeweed growing here somewhere, have you?"

Fili smiled. "We don't have a lot of smokers around here. Most people quit after the war because their lungs hurt. But, I do think I can help you. C'mon," he yanked softly on Bilbo's sleeve and led him a block away to a brick building. He reached for a key ring on his belt and unlocked the door. "We keep a stock of provisions in here," he explained. Indeed, each room was labeled, _Paper Products_ , _Cleaning Supplies_ , _Canned Goods._ Finally, the blond paused in front of a door that said _Controlled_ on it, and used another key to get inside.

The shelves were laden with cartons of cigarettes, bottles of pills, first aid supplies and batteries. Fili stepped up to a shelf and pulled two sealed pouches of loose tobacco down, handing them over. "This should do the trick." He grinned. "Will two bags be enough?"

"Two--oh, goodness, you're giving me two bags? I only wanted to share a pipe." Bilbo was flustered now. This stranger had completely won him over, if he had to be honest. Anything Thorin had said about Thranduil's associates was lost on him. Thorin had never offered him pipeweed. He had never so much as said something nice to Bilbo, other than a gruff, 'we need you on our quest because my late sister bade me get any farmer I can find from Bag End.' Bilbo huffed again at the thought.

"They're only collecting dust," Fili told him. "I can't vouch for whether or not it's gone stale, so I am sorry about that. If you don't mind my saying so, you seem different from the rest of that lot in the prison."

"In no hurry," shrugged Bilbo. "I just want to see a bit of the world, and I feel sorry for them, I suppose. But they're not a bad lot. The same goes for you, actually. You are different." He plucked at the weed, picked out a pipe that he hadn't used a while, and looked around for a fire. Of course, he had to have forgotten his matches.

"I suppose I am different," Fili watched Bilbo's fastidious movements with fascinated amusement. "We have lighters, if you'd like one," he told him, turning to a box on the shelf. "These are a precious commodity," he told Bilbo, handing him one, made of bright blue plastic. "I'd like to see your farm someday."

"Well, I'm sure we could pick you up if we came back this way," Bilbo said over lighting his pipe with contained glee. He sighed in bliss at the first draft. "Want to try? Anyway, I'm confused about something. You say they're free to go tomorrow, but they're still locked up right now, right? Why is that?"

"I'm not sure Thranduil trusts Thorin," Fili told him, waving away the offered pipe. "And the sentiment goes both ways, of course. For good reason," he muttered. Fili reached into a nearby box and pulled out a small red lollipop, yanked off the paper and slipped it into his mouth. "Thranduil hates when I eat candy. _We don't have a dentist here_ , he's always saying."

"Nor anywhere else in the world," shrugged Bilbo, "sound pointless to me to waste good food because of a cavity in this world though." He found himself a place to lean back and closed his eyes, smiling. "So I'm to stay here and wait for them in the morning. I mean, in the wagon. Sounds--"

But suddenly Bilbo broke into a coughing fit. His face turned red, then green, and he stumbled. "I don't feel so..."

Then Bilbo went down.

Fili threw aside his lollipop and dove to try to catch Bilbo before he hit the ground. He failed. "Bilbo!" he cried, leaning over the supine man to see if he was, in fact, still breathing.

A faint, troubled breath told him that he was, but it was a struggle. Bilbo heaved, clutching his throat like something was jammed there. The pipe clattered on the floor, smoldering tobacco cascading out. Bilbo was turning purple now.

"I need you on your feet!" Fili hissed in his ear, hoping that Bilbo still heard and understood it. His muscles protested while he struggled to pull Bilbo upright, hugging him around the middle from behind. He squeezed him and thrust into Bilbo's abdomen with his clenched hands once…twice. He'd been taught his maneuver in school, but had never tried to use it on a real person before.

"Come on," he breathed. Panicking, he repeated the gesture more forcefully.

Bilbo's weight flailed like a rag doll by Fili's doing. His hands reached out for anything until suddenly he chortled, took a big gasp, and his body sank to the floor. Still green around the edges, he weakly pointed at the tobacco. Definitely no longer good. "I think I breathed in fungus," he rasped. Bilbo clapped a hand to his mouth to hold back an unexpected wave of nausea. "D-definitely fungus. Don't feel too--"

Fili reached to his right and grabbed a plastic bin full of sunscreen, dumping out the contents and slipping it under BIlbo's face just in time for him to sick. "Oh Bilbo," he murmured, rubbing the man's back as he vomited. "I'm so sorry! I've poisoned you! We need to get you to our medical building."

Bilbo waved his hand faintly. "We--"

He couldn't say much more before he threw up. Bilbo felt absolutely miserable. He didn't want to go to any infirmary, he hated the kind of medicine that came in a pill, but he was powerless as Fili escorted him away from the place and to a squat white building.

Tauriel was just about to leave the med building when Fili showed up, a very sick looking man with curly auburn hair in tow. She didn't recognize him.

"This is Bilbo," Fili told her hurriedly. "A traveler. He's sick. Let's get him inside."

"But...Thranduil said--"

"Help me, or get out of my way!" Fili said, his voice low and menacing, tightening his grip on Bilbo's waist as Tauriel stepped aside, too surprised to do anything else.

"Well, what have we here?" Dr. Bombadil studied Bilbo's face earnestly as Fili helped him sit down on the edge of one of the beds.

"He smoked some old tobacco," Fili explained, "from the warehouse. It was my fault. It made him sick, as you can see. Can you help him?"


	9. In My Dreams, They Still Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili goes back into the prison to try to introduce himself to Kili, but that doesn't last long. Thorin and Thranduil have breakfast. The company has a bath.

"D'you suppose Baggins deserted us?" Dwalin asked from his cell across the way.

"Can you blame him?" Leaning against the cool wall of his cell, Bofur had his eyes closed like he was getting some rest. "Probably got away when they seized us. What's a small man like him to do against this many people? It'd only be more trouble. No, I'm pretty sure he went back to his home. It's safe there. To be honest, I'm not sure why he agreed to come along in the first place."

"But we're leaving tomorrow," Bombur reminded them.

"Aye, but it's not like any of us expected that."

"Well, no, but—"

"Shh. Listen."

All of them silenced. They heard a shuffling through the corridors. Something was up. Even the guards turned in confusion.

"What's wrong?" one of the guards asked.

"Someone's sick," the other managed to make out. "Odd. He doesn't look sick to me."

Ori's eyes widened at this. "D'you suppose Bilbo's all right?" he wondered. 

"I'm sure if he's been found, he's giving these clowns a run for their money," Dwalin said gently.

Fili pushed his way through the trio of guards near the door to the hallway of cells.

"I guess you overheard all that," he said quietly, eyes on the floor. "It's your friend Bilbo. He's in the sick bay. It's my fault."

The company of Thorin was up in seconds. Several men clanged on the bars; some of them angry, others concerned. The cacophony was suddenly broken when Thorin roared for silence, and all eyes were on him.

The tilted his head, hiding his eyes in shadows. There was warning in his voice. "What happened to him? Fili, tell me what happened."

"Fili?" Balin murmured, confused, as did several others. "Thorin? Uh. _Fili?_ "

"I went into your wagon," Fili explained. The men seemed upset, so he tried to be as succinct as possible. "Thranduil didn't want to return your weapons, but I was going to load them up in there anyway. I found Bilbo hidden inside. We got to talking, so I showed him around town. We had some pouches of tobacco in the warehouse. He said he wanted some, so I gave it to him, but they were too old. It made him sick."

His eyes swept the group, lingering on Kili's face. "He's a nice man. I'm sorry, it was an accident. Our doctor is taking care of him. He says he'll be all right and ready to travel in a few days."

He did not address the weightier issue that Thorin had raised—who he was. "I...I should go back and check on him."

"A few days?" Kili spoke above the sound of the others. "You mean we're stuck here for the next few days?"

Fili walked towards Kili's cell, wrapping his hands around two of the bars and leaning in. "I'm going to talk to Thranduil about having you released. I'm sure he'll do it if I—"

At that moment, Bombur charged forward, moving with surprising speed considering his size. He thrust a hand through the bars and grabbed a handful of Fili's hair, yanking him forward. 

"What did you do to Bilbo?" the red haired man cried. "Is this your plan? To _accidentally_ make us sick, one by one?" He slammed Fili's head against the bars, making sure it hit in the same spot Ori had wounded with the slingshot. Fili's knees buckled and he whimpered.

"No," Fili insisted, trying to scramble away, eyes seeking out Kili's for support. "No! I hadn't meant to hurt him! You don't understand! I'm—"

"Get your goddamn hand off my brother!" Legolas' voice cut through the melee as he strode forward with purpose, pulling a shining knife from a sheath on his belt. "One flick of this and it'll bleed you out in ten seconds, fat boy," he spat at Bombur, laying the implement against the rotund man's inner wrist. 

Bombur released Fili with a curse.

"Get out of here, Fee," Legolas inspected the wound on Fili's head, now beginning to bleed. "Go see Tom for a new bandage."

"I'm sorry," Fili locked eyes with Thorin apologetically, then fled.

Kili didn't know what else to do but stare between Bombur and the retreating figure of Fili—and then, when he was gone, Legolas.

They were stuck in their cells for sure now. After Bombur's outburst, Kili knew that nobody in their right mind would dare free them. A precedent had been set when Fili's head hit the bars. And the man had been so nice to them.

"...Sorry," he started to Legolas. "You must understand, my friend is not usually like this. We didn't want to intrude in your lands, and we really don't want to be in these cells. Your brother brought us drinks. That was kind of him. I hope," he glanced shortly at Bombur, "he'll be fine, won't he be? Again, really, really sorry." Kili tried a hopeful smile. The man had called him handsome before; maybe a smile could make him less angry.

"There's so much you don't know," Legolas sighed. "And it's not my job to tell you. My dad's always on Fee's case, telling him not to be so nice to others. But that's who he is. I'm certain he didn't poison your friend. He'd poison himself first. And _you,_ " he turned to Bombur, "you need to learn to control your temper."

He turned away without another word.

"I like Baggins," Bombur said contritely, sitting down heavily on the cell's only bunk. "Thorin, I'm sorry. I just...the past few days have been rough. And I am more than a bit claustrophobic."

Thorin sighed heavily. "I know, friend. I understand." Kili could not see him from his cell, yet he knew his uncle well enough to know the look on his face.

In the silence that followed, Balin scraped his throat—and again, when given no response. "His name is Fili?" he asked once again.

Thorin lay his head against the bars in front of him. "Yes. _My_ Fili," his eyes met Kili's. " _Our_ Fili. He asked me not to say anything. Apparently he survived the bombing, Kili. Your father did not. Thranduil found him and nursed him back to health. He raised him. Kept him." Angrily, he pushed away from the bars and walked to the center of his cell. "Thranduil told Fili we were dead."

"You mean...my brother?"

Even Bombur seemed in on it, when Kili looked at him. But that was just unfair. Fili was his brother. "You all knew? But we...we look nothing alike! That's ridiculous. If he's my brother, then why are we planning on leaving him behind? I mean, unless there's more you're not telling me."

It made no sense to Kili that he felt angry, but he did. Gone was the image in his head of a young joyful boy who would, despite being five years older, always remain Kili's lost little brother. And he was about to lose him again in a few days without even getting to know him. Kili's eyes glistened and his hands shook. "You were never planning on telling me."

"What? No!" Bombur gasped. "I wouldn't have done that had I known. Oh, Thorin..." he wiped at his sweaty face, "please, forgive me."

"Think nothing of it, Bombur," Thorin said quietly. "No one in this room knew, Kili. Not a soul. And of course we would have told you. I think Fili wanted to, when he came here just now, but that didn't go well for him. He alone can decide if he wants to leave with us. He's far too old for me to be making that decision for him."

"But what if _I_ want to stay?" Kili squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear the quiet gasps of surprise that came from his words. "If he's my brother, I want to know him. If he doesn't leave with us, Uncle, maybe I don't want to, either. My mother passed away less than a month ago. If what you say is true, then he's family."

"Kili..." Ori whispered.

"No, I—I think I'm serious."

In his cell, out of the eyesight of everyone but Gandalf, Thorin curled up in a corner and wept.

\- - - - - 

"There now," Dr. Bombadil secured a second, larger bandage over the lump on Fili's temple. "Try not to anger anyone else today, okay Fili?" he chuckled.

Fili smiled sadly. He knew all first aid supplies were precious commodities. "I'm sorry, Tom. It won't happen again."

"If you had only stayed here to rest like I asked before..." Tom rolled his eyes.

"I'll stay this time. I promise," Fili assured him. He felt very exposed in the flimsy hospital gown he'd been given to wear. But, he was in the bed next to Bilbo's, who lay sound asleep. He wasn't about to leave his side until he was sure the man felt better. "I'll stay, Tom."

He rolled on his side to face the redhead. His head hurt, but he soon dozed off, assured by the slow rise and fall of Bilbo's chest as he slept.

\- - - - - 

Thorin hadn't been awake for more than a few minutes the next morning when a man opened the door to his cell and looked down at him. "Thorin Oakenshield?" he asked without consideration for anyone still asleep. The man looked like a soldier, up before dawn and unmalleable. "Thranduil wants to see you. Follow me."

Back aching, and exhausted from a night tossing and turning on the cold hard floor, Thorin got slowly to his feet and followed the man. His guard let him out of the prison and a few blocks away to the office building where he'd spoken to Thranduil the day before. Golden morning sunlight filtered through the trees and the smell of food cooking set his stomach to growling.

He became acutely aware of his own scruffy appearance when he was left alone with his freshly bathed and dressed blond host.

"I'm sorry for Bombur's outburst," Thorin said immediately. "None of the men knew who Fili was. Not that it excuses his behavior."

"It's not me you need to say that to," said Thranduil. He looked over his guest and lowered his head in what appeared as defeat, but which was done so politely that it was hardly an insult. "When is the last time you've had a good bath, Thorin? I don't mean that as an offense. It's an offer, rather, if you'll accept it. For your men as well, of course." He gestured at the table. "Sit. We have things to discuss. Since we have a man of yours in the infirmary now, it appears you'll be staying here longer. I understand you'd rather not spend those days locked in a cell."

"That's true, we wouldn't," Thorin told him. "And you're right. I haven't had a proper bath in some time. Bathing requires letting down my guard—and, as you well know, I don't often do that."

"Would you let it down in the company of your men?" asked Thranduil. He was as courteous as a leader, gracious in a world that no longer accepted graceful men. He lived in a world of his own, hidden at the heart of the Caledonian woods; it was the only place where Thranduil had power. "I would advise against going to Erebor, but I know your stubborn streak as I know your kin. You will go there regardless. It shouldn't make enemies out of us."

At his behest, several men walked in with breakfast. Fresh loaves of bread, toppings, and even milk—a commodity that had become as expensive as centuries-old wine in a land with no cows. Thranduil gestured for Thorin to take anything he liked.

Thorin raised a hand unconsciously, reaching for the tantalizing bread. Then he paused. "Will my men be fed as well? I cannot eat unless they do."

Thranduil smiled and inclined his head. "There is enough."

Thorin reached forward, more tentatively this time, and took a thick slice of bread. To his delight, it was still warm. He raised it to his nose and inhaled. The scent nearly brought him to tears. "You must have an amazingly talented group of people here," he said, voice thick with emotion. He reached for a small bowl of honey and swirled some over the bread.

As the first taste exploded in his mouth, he smiled involuntarily and closed his eyes in pleasure. "I'd forgotten how delicious fresh bread tastes," he admitted. "You know, I have man with me—Bombur, the man who accosted Fili in the jail. He's a chef. A great one. I'm sure he'd love to see your kitchens."

Thranduil smiled. "Yes, I assume he would. You understand that I'm... _hesitant_ about showing him the kitchens and putting a chef's knife in his hands however. But he'll be free to watch if he wants to. I heard he attacked Fili."

"They're going stir crazy down there," Thorin told him, reaching for a second slice of bread. "I promised them hope and a new home where their skills could be put to use. Instead they're being held against their will. Bombur had befriended the man in the infirmary. When he heard he was sick, and how it happened...well, he lashed out. I'm not sure what he intended to accomplish, but I do know he regrets it. Bombur isn't a violent man. He's a master chef, for god's sake." He chewed thoughtfully, then continued, "Thank you, for saving Fili. For raising him, keeping him safe. You've known him far longer than I have now. I suppose my poor reaction yesterday was also based on coming to terms with that."

"Naturally." A silver tray of butter passed around the table as more people joined, making it nothing like a private conversation. Thranduil slathered the bread with the creamy butter and put the tray back. Thorin’s eyes never left Thranduil’s elegant fingers. "I understand, Thorin. I know you don't want much to do with me. Frankly I'll be happy to see you leave in a few days. Things have been far too tumultuous since you arrived. But that doesn't mean I'm not glad to have you as my guest. If I let your men out to take a bath and properly spend the rest of their time here in the guest quarters, can you give me your word there will be no more incidents?"

"These men aren't troublemakers. They're electricians, a doctor, a former mayor. One of them knits gloves and sweaters," he smiled warmly, thinking of how readily Ori had taken Kili under his wing. "They just want to be treated like human beings. Like the way we used to treat one another, at any rate."

A thick tendril of hair escaped from the ponytail Thorin had made, and he distractedly pushed it back behind his ear. It was a gesture Thranduil has seen Fili perform many times. 

As if Thorin knew what Thranduil was thinking, he asked, "My brother-in-law—Fili's father—was it quick, or did he suffer?"

Several of the company around them stilled inconspicuously and looked at Thranduil and their guest. Any time Thorin looked like he noticed, they quickly turned back to something else, though few were the number that thought Thranduil hadn't seen.

"We don't know. When we found Fili, his father had been dead for some time. Fili never spoke about the death. He said he didn't remember, and he still doesn't. I hope that it was fast. Fili was...catatonic, the first weeks. We didn't know what to do with him. There was the war, and it took everything we had to stay off the radar. I sent you a messenger, hoping you'd take him off our hands, but we never received word in reply. Legolas pleaded with me, and Fili, one look at him, I could not leave him on his own. He is very unlike you, but some things seem to run in the family. Stubbornness, it is still endearing on a five-year-old." Thranduil smiled fondly at the recollection. "I hope he does not leave. I think of him as a child of mine. But that's not my decision to make."

"Your message never reached us," Thorin told him, his breakfast sitting like a rock in his belly. "The bombs drove us out of Erebor. The gangs kept us away. For the safety of my sister and my infant nephew, we had to keep moving. Finally, when we found a home we could call our own, I was afraid to risk their lives by traveling further. We became reclusive. Had Fili been with us, there's no question that he'd be as sheltered and backwards as my Kili. I have been a terrible guardian to him."

"There's nothing wrong with protecting him from the outside world. We both know how harsh that world has become." Pouring himself a glass of a rich dark drink that looked like grape juice, Thranduil looked out over his people. Some of them looked back. "The courtesy we're extending to you is new for us. We never normally took prisoners, but if we would, we'd make sure they'd be taken back to the edge of the forest with a good warning not to return. It has everything to do with that world. But," he smiled, "I wouldn't call Kili backwards. My son doesn't think Kili is backwards, either. Give your boy a chance. We have libraries, a farm, even an infirmary. For as long as he's here, they're at his disposal to learn. If you're taking him to Erebor, it'll be the only chance he gets."

As Thranduil spoke, Thorin's mind went back in time to when Thranduil and he were still teenagers. Thranduil's father would bring him along on visits to Erebor. He'd been tall and elegant, even then. But despite that elegance, he’d fallen easily into Thorin's bed with very little cajoling. Thorin looked forward to those bi-yearly visits—passing a cigarette back and forth after early morning love making. They could never have imagined a world like this.

"You wanted a part of me," Thorin surmised finally, quietly. "That's why you kept him."

For the first time, Thranduil showed annoyance. "I did not _keep_ him, and certainly not for you. I raised him because he would have been alone, _dead_ , if I hadn't. He's not my property. And he most certainly wasn't here because of you. I remember, Thorin. You wanted nothing to do with me. Would you have thanked me for what I did, or would you have accused me of stealing him away?"

"I would have thanked you," Thorin said quickly. "Thank you, Thranduil, for saving my nephew—for nursing him back to health, physically and mentally. Thank you for giving him a better life than I could have. I know that now." He looked away from the throng, eyes to the wall nearby so that no one could see the tears forming there. "I'm going to encourage him to stay."

A silence followed. Several of the men around them slowly got up and left. They made it seem natural, while it was clear to anyone who paid attention that it was on cue.

"You've changed," Thranduil said when they were alone again. "Fili goes where he goes. He's always been like that. I do believe that perhaps seeing the outside world might change his perspective on some things." He reached in a satchel and procured a key, bronze and golden with inlaid silver, which he slid over to Thorin. "I'm a man of my word. Go to your men. My people will show you the baths if you ask them. Return the key to me later."

"Parts of me have changed," Thorin assured him. "But most have not." His hand slid forward and palmed the key. "Thank you."

\- - - - 

"Thorin!" Balin's face lit up at the appearance of his friend.

"Thranduil is releasing us," Thorin told them, producing the key and unlocking their cells, one by one. "You must all promise not to make trouble during our stay."

"You mean we must not get caught making trouble?" grinned Nori knowingly between them, but Dwalin threw him a serious look and Nori silenced.

As soon as Kili was out of his cell, he looked around at everything he hadn't seen before. The place was, in one word, perfect. He longed to explore it, see where it began and where it ended, and what made it possible for the place to exist, but Thorin said just the thing to make him forget it for now.

"We should find the medical bay," Thorin lay a hand on Kili's shoulder. "You'll want to meet Fili, I imagine."

Kili nodded eagerly. "I'll take a bath and then find him. Does he know who I am, Uncle?" He looked down at himself. "I feel like I've just come crawling out of the mud, compared to all of these people."

"He knows," Thorin assured him. "And he's eager to meet you, Kili. Come, everyone," Thorin raised the volume of his voice. "The town has a bathhouse, apparently, where you can wash up. Then, there's a meal to be eaten. Legolas has been asked to show you there way there," he gestured at Thranduil's son. "Find me in two hours," he said to Kili. "I have some business with Thranduil to attend to."

What Thorin neglected to say was that Thranduil had invited Thorin to his home to use his personal bathroom and shower. Thorin's stomach knotted at the prospect, but seeing his men's reactions to Caledonia helped temper his fear.

Kili wanted to ask where he was supposed to be looking for Thorin after his bath, yet he found himself ushered away down the steps, then up again until they resurfaced aboveground. A luster of green foliage greeted them, sunshine warming the earth.

They weren't taken to any of the cottages in the meadows, nor any of the facilities amidst the trees. Their path took them further away. Kili huddled to find Ori and breathed out in relief when he caught up with him. "Are you okay?" he asked. "No injuries?" 

What he meant to say was that he had missed his friend.

"I'm all right," Ori smiled, squeezing his arm. "What a strange couple of days it's been. I can't believe your brother is alive! And that Bombur almost brained him too!"

Kili didn't have a chance to reply, for Legolas held up the company. "These are our hot springs," he told the company, most of whom were enraptured by the sight in front of them. A series of shallow pools were sunken into the rocks in front of them, surrounded by pine trees. The air was fragrant and clouds of steam hung above the pools. 

"Most everyone's at work this time of day," Legolas told them. "We all have jobs here." As if to imply that the lot of them were loafers and freeloaders. "If you intend to stay, you'd best find a place to make yourself useful. In the meantime, you should have privacy here to soak away the dirt and filth you've gathered in your travels."

The glint in his eye indicated he had little sympathy for the men in front of him. "You'll be fed afterwards. I'll be back for you in an hour. At my father's request, make yourself at home here."

"My god," Bofur swept off his hat and stepped towards one of the pools. "It's Heaven, lads! We're died and gone to Heaven!"

"Come," Ori smiled, pulling shyly at Kili's wrist. "It looks incredible, doesn't it?"

And it truly did. Kili was out of his clothes before anyone else and in the water first. He cringed and veered back when his feet touched the water, exclaiming, "It's hot!"

Bofur came up next to him, and then Ori. "That's what baths are supposed to be."

"No, they're not! Baths are cold." Kili tried another tentative step. Well, it _was_ nice. A bit too hot for his tastes yet, but agreeable after a minute. His skin responded with an odd sensation of relaxation, and Kili carefully walked forward again. His frown turned into a stupid smile. "This is good!"

"Yes, it is," Ori's eyes swept Kili's frame from head to toe. "You have a really nice smile, Kili," he said at last, blushing and slipping out of his shirt.

Kili stuck out his tongue with a tease in reply, because he didn't know what else to say. "Are you coming in or what? I can't believe this used to be normal. I missed out on a lot, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Ori's voice sounded strange, and he was especially self-conscious of his skinny, pale, freckled body—particularly of the magenta colored keloids that covered his wrists and stomach. "I got burned," he said softly, when Kili's eyes stayed glued to the peculiarly-shaded skin. He slipped into the water up to his chin, relieved to be hiding his old injuries from Kili's wide brown eyes.

But Kili reached for his hand and drew it up above the level of the water with care. His curiosity was piqued and, with dignity, he reached to touch one small bump. Kili didn't have them, but he considered them nothing that needed to be hidden. They had a certain grace to them. If they weren't souvenirs from a war, they would have been beautiful. "Does it still hurt? You don't have to hide them, Ori. Not from me."

Despite the heat, Ori shivered. "There isn't much feeling in the skin at all," he confessed, "but sometimes I dream, and in my dreams, they still burn." His eyes met Kili's. "That sounds really crazy, doesn't it?"

Kili shook his head. Beads of water dropped from the ends of his hair, only just dipped into the water. He released Ori's hand. "Not crazy. I'm sorry. Almost everyone here has them, don't they?" Kili leaned back, as if wanting to float on the water. He stopped just in time when remembering that the water might be too hot for that and besides, there were others there. "Don't hide them, okay?" He sighed, watching the fractal of leaves and light above the hot springs. "These people make me feel unclean. They look so perfect."

Ori simply chuckled. "Kili, you have no idea how lovely you are, do you? I guess no one's ever told you."

When Kili next looked at him, he looked oddly and uncomfortably timid. Kili had no idea what to say to a compliment like that. He supposed that 'thank you' would be in order, and yet he felt lost. Lonely. He had read the stories of lovely people, and they always found a significant other that would make them happy. Just not in this world. "That's sweet of you," he mumbled.

"I don't lie," Ori told him quietly. "I wouldn't just say something like that to make you feel better. I know you saw me with Dwalin, back home. But what we have, well, it's kind of a comfort thing. It's been going on for a long, long time. But we both have an understanding that it's just—well, that it's just something we do to keep the chill away. I—I'm not particularly good at wooing. I haven't read the right books, I guess," he smiled. "I ought to wash my hair," he said, sinking below the surface of the water, spidery fingers coming up to scrub at the thick auburn locks.

There was a moment in which Kili considered those words. "Yeah, me neither," he sighed. But then Kili didn't have someone to woo. Ori just had to get it in Dwalin's head that he wanted more. Dwalin surely would be interested, Kili thought. He considered that. "So how did you two, you know...?"

Ori pushed his wet hair out of his face. "Dwalin and his brother came to our village for the farmers markets. I had a little table set up where I sold my woolens. We just got to talking. My brothers invited them to dinner. I just sort of...happened one night. I was sixteen," he whispered. 

"Was it romantic?" Kili was eager to know.

"Uh, well..." Ori bit at his lower lip, "he was very gentle and kind. It felt good. But it wasn't exactly romantic, no. My big brother, Dori, says romance is pretty much a thing of the past. I hope that isn't true."

"Oh." Kili drifted back in that disappointed look that got more and more miserable as seconds ticked by. "I made a promise to mum before she passed," he said quietly. "If I'd fall in love one day, I'd follow my heart. But my heart hoped that it would be like in the books, with love, and romance, and someone who would love me back. It's never going to be like that, is it? If I fall in love, it'll only be a convenience."

"You should hold out for what your heart wants," Ori assured him. "You should absolutely not compromise, Kili. We live in a great big world, and you and me? We've only seen a small part of it. You never know what, or who , is waiting just around the bend. You'll find someone. I know it." _But in the meantime,_ Ori hoped silently, _I wish you’d consider me._

"Just like I've been able to in the past twenty years," whispered Kili bitterly. But reality caught up with him in the form of the first relaxing bath in decades, a friend who was there for him, and a bit of common sense. Well, the first fifteen years of those would have been creepy anyway, I suppose. Sorry. Anyway. What's that foam everyone is using?"

Ori finally took a moment to look around at the others. "Shampoo, by the looks of it," he said. "Maybe soap." He noticed that niches had been carved into the sides of the springs in which sat homemade soaps and lotions. "Oh...wow," he grinned, smelling one of the rectangular bars. "Smells amazing! Like mint. Here." He handed the soap to Kili. He then picked up another bar, took a sniff and dunked it in the water and started lathering up. 

"Wonder if we can sneak some of this stuff out with us?" Kili heard Nori say from nearby.

"Bifur can make soap," Bofur told them. "Wonderful soap, in fact. Lotions too. We just ran out of ingredients."

Kili leaned towards Ori as he followed his example and started laying down a foamy base. "I'm beginning to suspect what your brother does for a living," he entrusted to him. "Can we make sure he doesn't get us into trouble?"

As they spoke, several men walked up to the water and started placing down white-as-snow towels on dry slabs of stone for them. Kili was not yet ready to get out of the water. He groaned into the warmth and wanted to lean on something or otherwise stop standing, his body too lazy to keep awake. One sudden slip, and he gasped when he re-emerged from the water with soap in his eyes.

Things were going to be difficult before they'd start being just good.

At least he'd be thoroughly clean and more presentable before he got to meet his brother.


	10. Water Bottle Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Bilbo have a chat in the hospital. Fili makes a shocking discovery when he passes Thranduil's bedroom door. Kili finally gets quality time with his brother.

Bright synthetic light poured in as soon as Bilbo opened his eyes. He squinted, screwed his eyes shut, and carefully tried opening one again. Everything hurt, but not in the way he would expect it to. It was like a fever, with him overly sensitive to any stimulus.

His memories started coming back to him when he looked over at the bed next to him. Though, he thought to himself, that didn't make sense. "Fili?" he asked. "You—why are you here?"

Just waking up himself, Fili yawned, remembering where he was and with whom. When he noticed his right leg had slipped out from under the white blankets overnight and was exposed to Bilbo's view, he quickly covered it up. But of course, Bilbo had already seen the brilliant blue keloids that decorated it.

 _Decorated._ That's what Thranduil called it. A mark of honor for having survived the Dragonfire. Fili was one of only a few people in Caledonia who was _decorated_ , and he hated it. How he had wanted a closer look at the burns on Thorin's men. But the closest he got was when Bombur had grabbed him the day before. He'd noticed a patch of sandy brown just poking up from under the angry man's collar, hinting at something larger underneath.

"I had a bit of a run-in with one of Thorin's men," Fili explained. "The big man with the red hair. I went to tell them you were sick, and how it happened. Well, he didn't like that. Dr. Bombadil made me spend the night. His hand tentatively went to the bandage on his temple. "It feels much better than yesterday. What about you?"

"Oh." Bilbo racked his brain. "Right, that must have been Bombur. Yes, he does that sometimes. Not, I mean, assault people. He's very, uh, _spirited_. I'm sorry you got hurt because of me." He looked at the blankets that covered him. Pristine, unlike anything he'd seen in ten years. Not that Bilbo liked white sheets much. The ones at his home were all decorated with floral motifs; that, or patched out of old pieces of fleece. They were much more comfy than these clean sheets, but he was glad enough that he had sheets to start making a fuss about it.

As soon as he turned his focus on himself, a wave of nausea hit him. Bilbo gingerly lay back again. "Let's say it's best not to eat anything today. Are the others upset? They'll be locked up for as long as I'm sick, won't they?"

"Father planned to release them this morning,” Fili told him. "I think he wants to let them see the town. I hope, when you're feeling better, you can have a better tour as well." Fili's eyes studied Bilbo's pale face. "I'm so sorry about the tobacco, Mr. Baggins. I hadn't realized it could go bad like that. I could have killed you!"

"Ah, now now, but you didn't." Still queasy, Bilbo forced a smile. "To be fair, I didn't know tobacco could go bad myself. Another thing learned, I suppose. Well, I didn't expect your old man to go for that. A tour of the town...that sounds nice. I would love to see your gardens, if I thought I could stand up straight for more than ten minutes. Maybe you could describe it all to me—what life is like here. And then tomorrow I could get to find out how close the real thing comes to your narrative."

Fili said the first thing that came to mind. "I get up every morning around five. I don't need a—what do you call it?—an alarm. It's just automatic. One of my jobs, aside from the teaching, is to help on the farm. We have a huge farm and several barns where we house livestock. I gather eggs every morning. Fifteen dozen or more. And I feed the chickens. Then, I get breakfast. We have a community kitchen out of the school cafeteria. It's huge. The whole town can eat at once, if we had to. Sometimes, like on Christmas, we do. I drop off the eggs there every day and get a plate of food. And it's good food. Eggs every day, of course. Vegetables, fruit. Whatever meat's in season. Bread, butter..." He smiled. "I should stop talking about eating. You look a little green."

"Just...not the dairy and the bread, the rest is fine." Bilbo gave his new friend an impish wriggle of his nose. "I love food, I do. If it were up to me, I'd go back to the old ways in a second. Seven meals a day, oh, do I miss that." He turned onto his side so that he could watch as Fili spoke. "Please, do continue."

"Seven?" Fili grinned. "Snacks, I'm sure. Where on earth would you put seven meals?" Still not sure if Bilbo had been serious, he went on. "School starts at eight. I work with the kids until noon, when we all go to the cafeteria for lunch. In the morning it's reading and writing. In the afternoon, it's practical stuff. Everyone learns a trade. Some of the kids go out and intern with local craftspeople. There are, of course, some areas in which we are sorely lacking."

Bilbo lay listening to him, ensnared. "Don't you have it all?" he asked lazily. "I mean, you don't have factories, but from what I've seen, you've got everything else." He lay still, hoping for the rest of the story. Bilbo had no clue as to what these people considered leisure, nor what they had for food. "Seven meals, no snacks, by the way. Seven snacks, what a waste. I wouldn't be missing seven snacks so much, my friend."

"I would think you'd be as large as your friend Bombur if you ate seven meals a day," Fili wrinkled his nose, "unless you have some sort of souped-up metabolism. As far as factories, no. We don't have those. But we do produce things on a small scale. What we need around here is someone who knows about medicine and how to make it. We need more people who know how to fix things when they break—especially electrical, mechanical and plumbing things."

"Oh, easy. We've got those." But Bilbo wasn't sure whether he wanted to get out of this hospital bed, only to have the men in whose company he had come here turn on him for disclosing that. "Please, if you want their services, ask them instead of ordering them. They wouldn't think kindly of me if they found out I told you that. Either way, you must not be familiar with the place I'm from. We like to eat, we do. But we also like to garden, and go for walks, and there are plenty other ways to exercise without, you know, exercising." Bilbo spoke as if the word itself already tired him out. "And nobody I know ever got to Bombur's size."

"We have fun here too," Fili told him. "I don't want you thinking we don't. After dinner every night we all hang out outdoors. We play games. You know, football, baseball...our own versions. We have some people who can play the guitar and stuff, so we always have music. There is a piano in the music room of the school. I mess around with it, but I'm really quite bad. Some people, you know, date _and stuff,_ " he blushed. "We have families with children here, single men and women. Couples. A handful of pets."

A chuckle pulled Fili out of his story. Bilbo waved it away. "Don't mind me, don't mind me. Just..." He smiled warmly. "You're funny when you talk about people and what they do behind closed doors. Where I come from, dates were just an excuse to enjoy a fine meal together and then a bed, but I've heard it can be very stressful from the people passing by. I can tell you right now that you aren't involved with anyone, or you wouldn't be saying it like that. So I think you spend more time behind that piano than you're trying to make me believe."

"You're very good at reading people," Fili admitted, picking idly at the sheet covering him to his waist. "I...well, you're right. I don't have a _someone special,_ as the romance novels put it. To be fair, I haven't really looked much. Everyone here has a preconceived notion of who I am. Everyone expects something from me. You're the first person I've met who hasn't expected anything from me, and what do I do? I nearly killed you!"

"Technicalities." Bilbo waved his hand about. The impish smile remained. "I'll be fine. Well, I must say you're making me interested in hearing you play the piano now. They don't have a piano in the hospital, do they?"

"Even if they did, I certainly wouldn't play for you, Mr. Baggins." Fili sat up, then stood, primly pulling the hospital johnny shut over his bottom as he walked past. "You're supposed to be recovering and my music would only make you feel worse than you already do. Would you like me to see about getting something light sent in here for you to eat? I need to be getting over to the barn to check on the chickens. I’m already quite late.”

"Fruit juice would be marvelous," Bilbo conceded. He was going to miss having Fili next to him to pass the day, and he scraped his throat with a raised brow when he saw Fili's back upon passing him by. "Water too. I'll try to be better fast. Maybe tonight you can play me the piano in the music room, if you'd like. I would be looking forward to it."

Fili cocked his head to the side and studied Bilbo, as if to ascertain if Bilbo was serious in his request. "Okay," he agreed. "But only if you're feeling well. As you can imagine I'm really eager to meet my brother."

Truth be told, Fili was planning to check on the chickens, and his students, but only long enough to see if they were in capable hands that day. He was more eager to meet Kili and talk with him. He got dressed hurriedly behind a curtained partition. 

"I'll come back to check on you soon, Mr. Baggins," he assured Bilbo as he passed. "And I'll make sure they give you everything you need to recover." He reached out and gently squeezed Bilbo's arm. "I've enjoyed talking with you," he told him, then moved from the room.

Fili walked up the block to the place he'd called home for the past twenty years—a brick colonial with four bedrooms. He was desperate to take a shower and go see his brother. As he passed his father's bedroom, he was surprised to hear a noise from behind the partially-open door. No one was ever home at this time of day. He approached the door, peeking through the crack and was met with a shocking sight.

Thranduil and Thorin lay on the bed, half dressed and kissing passionately. 

A gasp of surprise bubbled up from Fili's throat, but he stopped it with a hand. Turning, he dashed down the hall into his own room where he locked himself in the bathroom and turned the water up to let the powerful pressure scrub away what he had seen.

By the time he emerged from that shower, the Thranduil’s bedroom again shut and empty. But just when Fili thought he was alone, voices came drifting up from the common room. They were indiscernible, save for the part where there were three of them.

Kili looked uncomfortably between his uncle and their host. He knew that people called him naive for a lot of things. Thorin and Thranduil looked like Ori and Dwalin though, right after they had gone missing for some half an hour on any given night around the fire, and he knew exactly what had passed. He didn't understand, yet it certainly made him feel awkward where he was sitting on the couch.

"I can come back later," he muttered with the palms of his hands pressed together between his knees and his shoulders tense. "I haven't had breakfast. Maybe I should go get breakfast first."

"Don't be ridiculous, Kili," Thorin said, hoping to set his nephew at ease. "Fili left the hospital this morning and he's upstairs cleaning up. I'm sure he'll be down any minute."

Kili wasn't sure whether he wanted to sit there watching his uncle be unlike himself around this man with the long flowing hair one second longer.

"We can go together," Fili chose that moment to slip into the room in a pair of well-worn jeans and an obviously handmade shirt of pale green material. "That is, if you'd like to. I'm sure you must be hungry, aren't you?" he asked Kili.

Kili's jaw dropped with little pretense at dignity. "You! Water bottle man! _You're_ Fili?"

Fili nodded. "I'd prefer you find something else to call me besides _Water bottle man,_ though," he smiled softly. "I did bring you some soda as well." He walked closer to Kili and the brunet could smell the soap he'd showered with, and the mint shampoo in Fili's towel dried hair. "Hi," Fili said, smiling.

"...Hi!" Kili was still confused and a bit out of it, but he needed only one look at Thorin and Thranduil to know he was ready to take this man up on his offer. "Very hungry, by the way. So breakfast it is." The clothes that he wore were too big for his frame, held together with a buckle around his waist and a drawstring in his cotton slacks. His original clothing had needed a good wash and was left to dry in one of the meadows. So Kili knew that he probably looked a bit too casual for a meeting of this magnitude. At least Fili was casual too. Sort of.

While they walked, Kili couldn't keep his eyes off of Fili. Only when they were out of earshot did he admit guiltily, "You don't much look like Thorin, or my mum."

"I know," Fili said, apologetically, as if he had some control over it. "I look like our dad. His name was Vili. Have you ever seen a picture of him?"

Kili shook his head. "We didn't have many pictures. Do you remember him? Mum said he was gone by the time I was born. I guess that means you were gone by the time I was born as well." He walked ahead and turned to study Fili while walking backwards. Golden hair, and a fairly short frame, but the eyes could have been their mother's. He looked good. Whereas Kili felt like an awkward adolescent who didn't know half as much about the world than he ought to and was constantly reminded of that, Fili looked kind and confident. "I didn't know you existed until a few weeks back, actually." He smiled and pondered, "We won't be here long, but I hope we can be friends."

"Kili," Fili stopped in his tracks. "I want to be more than just your friend. I want to be your _brother._ "

Kili halted. He belatedly mumbled back, "Those things probably take time." As of yet—and he was trying hard—no brotherly emotions suddenly welled up to make this golden stranger feel like kin. Kili bit his lip. "I figured we could start as friends, right? I mean, we've only got two or three days. That isn't a lot of time. You will still _be_ my brother." It just didn't feel like that yet.

Fili nodded. After all, Kili had been raised an only child. But he wasn't going to deny that it felt like a rejection. He found himself immensely glad that he hadn't given into his original inclination to hug Kili when he'd had the chance back at home. "Dining hall's this way, in the school," he said instead, pointing towards a sandy colored stucco building up ahead. When they entered, they found the rest of Thorin's company gathered at a table on the far end of the room. "I see your friends were fed. Good, good. Come." He ushered Kili into the line. 

"Morning, Fee," a tall dark-haired man said from behind the counter. 

"Figwit, hi," Fili smiled. "This is Kili. He's really hungry."

"Is that so?" Figwit began piling a plate high with what appeared to be scrambled eggs, bread and a piece of meat of some sort. "See how this sits with you, Fili, and if you need more, you come back."

Kili thought it was weird just to be handed food from what seemed like a limitless supply. As soon as they both had a good portion of food, the younger between the two veered them in the opposite direction of the company. "I'll introduce you later," he said apologetically. "I don't think we'd really talk much with them around. That fellow with the white beard? He has been dying to ask you questions. About Bilbo, about Dad, about Thranduil. If it's okay with you, I don't want to learn about you through someone else."

They took a seat at a distance that Kili hoped was okay, just outside the cafeteria on a small platform with several tables and chairs. Despite the weather and the view, nobody else was there. Well, Kili could always feign ignorance if the place was off-limits. They'd probably believe him, what with his limited understanding of customs. Settling into his chair, he focused his attention on Fili again. "Tell me about you."

Fili smiled. "I'm sure to you this whole place seems very glamorous, and the people even more so. But it's all I know. Caledonia's a very well-run society. Everyone has a job here. We all pitch in. I work at the school. I help teach the kids, and I do some work on the farm. Mostly with chickens. Although I don't get involved in the butchering. I don't like to be around for that," Fili told him, pushing his eggs around with his fork. "Do you like animals?"

"We had a dog once," Kili recalled. "Small, ball of energy. I don't know what kind, but he was mostly white and very fast. We called him Boulder, because he had no grace whatsoever. Oh, and I used to have an owl, Hoot. We had to leave him behind when we left though. He's off having the time of his life with the mice in the attic, I bet." Kili thought back fondly. "Me and Uncle Thorin hunted. If you try to build a farm in the North, someone will just come and steal from the land. It's not good business, really. So we hunted. Unfortunately, that also involves gutting and such." He pulled a face. "Necessary, but never nice. We had a guitar there. Whoever finds that will be a very lucky man. There wasn't much to do but hunt, read and make music, I suppose."

Fili made note of Kili's remark about the guitar. "Do you have a skill?" Fili wondered. "Are you good at anything?"

"Well, hunting." But that wasn't a skill; that was more of a necessity. Kili tried some of the eggs and lit up. They were better than most of the eggs Thorin and he had found in the fields surrounding their home during their hunts, but then most of what they found were from small quails. "I like carving wood. There wasn't much to do, and we hardly had visitors, but there was always enough wood. I made my bow. Your people took it away from me when we came here, but it's a really nice bow. I did the leather myself too. I made Ori a slingshot too, but he keeps trying to convince me that it's a better weapon than my bow." Kili shook his head and laughed. "It's not. Ori is a good friend though. He didn't mean to hit you. Bombur was kind of unexpected too. They didn't give you any scars, did they?" It would be a pity—but Kili quickly stifled mentioning that aloud.

"Just a bump," Fili murmured around the rim of his glass. "No stitches. Dad says I'm a fast healer. You'll get your bow back, Kili, I promise. You know, we use traps to hunt around here...when we do hunt, that is. Maybe you could teach us some archery. I wouldn't mind learning."

"Mh," Kili said over a mouthful, "absolutely. "When do you have in mind? I planned on having a tour of the place with Ori later, but you can come if you like. Nothing else planned so far. We were supposed to be locked up, after all."

"You can't exactly have a tour without a proper guide, can you?" Fili's eyes met Kili's briefly, then skipped away as if those dark depths might be hazardous. 

Kili's remained on Fili's without little second thought. "Are you offering?"

"Yes," Fili's breath hitched. "I want to spend as much time with you as possible...before you leave." He was having a hard time hiding his sadness. He had spent his whole life thinking his entire family had died. Now here sat his living, breathing brother—acting as if it were just another day for him. He pushed away his breakfast, only half eaten. "Bring your friend too, of course. We're already here at the school. Would you like to see my classroom?"

A nod and a smile were his easy reply. Kili felt very comfortable around this man who also happened to be his brother. They could be friends. And he was intent on spending as much time around him as he could. They were living on borrowed time, after all. "Why do you have a classroom?" he asked, slightly confused.

"Well," Fili told him. "It's sort of my 'home base', I guess you could say. The kids move around throughout the school, but they come to my classroom for some writing and literature... but mostly I teach life skills. Thorin told me that you like to read. I have a lot of books."

"You're a teacher! Of course!" Kili felt more stupid by the minute. He made sure not to show that outwardly. "Wow. Literature. That means you've got nice books. I've sort of been reading the same ones over and over. And I don't think they were very good or renowned or anything. But if you've got classes, do you have the time to walk with us?"

"I do. I got the day off. Doctor's orders. What have you read?" Fili wondered, leaning forward. He was curious about the limited number of books that had formed his brother's opinions of what life had been like before the war.

Kili ducked his head. "Uh. Really nothing impressive. _Dracula_. Some novels mum calls romance novels. Zombie stories. _Animal Farm_. I like that one."

"Ah," Fili brightened. "Good stuff, that. I guess you probably figured out that the story is an allegory."

"...What's an allegory?"

"It's a style that writers used when they wanted to get a point across without actually saying what they wanted to say," Fili told him. "A lot of people think _Animal Farm_ isn't really about animals at all, but the Russian Revolution, or any sort of political situation where one group overthrows another—for whatever reason. When you think about the book now, can you see that it might have been about more than just pigs and chickens?"

"...I liked it when it was about pigs and chickens." Kili didn't understand much about politics, and he certainly didn't know about the Russian Revolution. "So, uh, I'm sure you've got some history books available for me to borrow, right?"

"Well, that's the good thing about allegory," Fili locked eyes with him. "You can enjoy it at either level. Our world's history is fascinating." Fili grew animated. "Even the stuff leading up to the war," he said sadly. "I've been told that Balin knows a lot about it. He'd be a great source of information. In fact, I might even have some magazines with articles that he wrote. He used to be quite famous. Apparently, he was on the team that designed the Dragonfire missiles. But then, he quit after a big fight with his co-workers."

"Did you write for articles?" Finished with his food, Kili placed the emptied tray forward. He glanced over at Ori sitting with the group to give him a look that said, _I think he's a nice guy_ and leaned his cheek on his palm, all ears. "Show me."

"Me? No." Fili smiled. "I don't write. And there are no magazines anymore anyway.”

He got up, slipping a plate only half finished on top of Kili's and carrying both trays to a window where he got rid of them. Kili waved Ori over and he followed along.

"You know Dad doesn't like us to waste food," Legolas' voice came from behind the counter when he noticed Fili's plate. Legolas was handing a basket of carrots and tomatoes off to one of the cooks.

"I know. I'm sorry. My head hurts," Fili offered by way of explanation. "I'll do better at dinner," he promised. "I'm taking these two on a tour," he told the blond. "Is that all right?"

Whatever went on in the kitchen in the following seconds, it was lost to Legolas when he recognized Kili and Ori. “Just don’t go touching things you don’t understand,” he said with a wink, eyes on Kili.

Kili smiled broadly and whispered to Ori, so that nobody else heard, "He told me I was handsome." Kili looked immensely flattered.

" _I_ told you that you were handsome," Ori frowned. "But you didn't look quite as happy about it."

Kili thought twice about that. "No, you didn't," he said. "You said I was _lovely_. That's not the same t—oh." His smile returned and he pulled Ori into a quick sideways hug. Any eye contact with Legolas was broken. "Sorry. Yes, you did. Thank you, Ori," he whispered. "Your opinion is worth more to me than his."

Legolas had looked at him a lot differently than Ori. Still, Kili decided that either conclusion made him feel quite better, and dropped the subject for now. He wasn't sure what to make of these unexpected compliments towards him from men anyway. Straightening and putting his hands behind his back, he turned to his brother. "You were showing us the classroom, right?"

Fili's face wore a wistful half smile as he watched Kili embrace Ori. "It's this way," he said, turning to exit the cafeteria. “We’ll catch up with you later, Legolas,” he said, waving to his brother, but the other man had already vanished into the depths of the kitchen.

Fili took a few turns down corridors where the sound of their footfalls was amplified. Then, he turned into a brightly-lit classroom where a group of children were sitting at a table drawing with crayons.

"Fee!" several of them chorused. 

One little girl with dark hair and eyes got up and hugged him around the waist. "They said you were sick! Are you better now? I made you a picture."

"Can I see it?" Fili asked, and the little girl handed him a drawing of what appeared to be a group of birds flying through a blue sky. "It's beautiful, Arwyn," he proclaimed. "Almost as pretty as you.” He accepted a drawing from another little boy. “Oh, Max...what great colors!"

"Look what I did!" another little boy asserted, shoving a paper in Fili's face. Suddenly, he was swarmed with children.

"They work really hard," Fili called out to Kili and Ori. "These two men came here from another town," he told the children. "Can you say hello?"

"You have pink hands," little Arwyn told Ori. "Like this." She pulled the magenta crayon from the box. "Pretty!"

Ori and Kili were defenseless against the horde. Fili did not realize how few children there still were out there. Kili hadn't seen more than two in the past ten years, and Ori hadn't seen a great deal more than that. Then suddenly there was a classroom full of them. Kili tried to rub back his tears without anyone noticing. They were miracles. They were the future, and for the first time he believed that there still was a future worth having.

He crouched down and showed his own freshly rubbed hands. "What color are mine? Have you got a color for me too? Oh," he looked up at Fili and Ori, "this is—I don't have words."

Arwyn reached back into the bright yellow Crayola box and pulled out a flesh colored crayon. She held it up against Kili's hand. "That's not right," she giggled, then went for a tan one. "That's closer," she smiled. 

"I have this crazy desire to knit a jumper for every single one of them," Ori laughed, falling back onto his bum as one of the little boys tossed a ball in his direction.

"No balls indoors!" Fili reminded them, but the boys were so happy to have a new playmate that they barely heard. 

"You get to play like this all day?" Ori asked, breathless.

"We do get some work done as well," Fili told him. "They're just happy to see new people."

"The pleasure is all ours," Kili grinned as he caught one of the balls and threw it back. He didn't know much, but he was great with ball games. The soft ball bounced on the floor and just high enough for one of the smaller ones to catch it. "All right," he snuck a playful glance at Fili, then at the kid, "throw it back to me, and then listen to your teacher." To Fili, he added, like he wasn't at all bending the rules, "Have you got any yarn? Trust me, Ori makes the best things, and it's nice to watch him do it."

Kili wanted to stay here all day. The village was nice, but this was much better.

"We have a room in the warehouse dedicated to all sorts of craft items," Fili smiled. "And thank heavens, because if we ever run out of crayons we're in big trouble!" He tickled one of the more rambunctious boys. "We had a few women in the town who knitted," he told Ori, "but both of them died. No one else knows how. There's a lady who crochets, but it's mostly blankets. "

"That's a shame," Ori frowned. "I could teach someone. I don't suppose there's any knitting needles in that yarn warehouse of yours?"

"More than you'd be able to use in one lifetime," Fili told him. "I'm afraid to let you into that room. You might never want to come out."

"Sounds like we've got a lot of people you need," Kili pondered aloud. He got up and nodded in affirmation, slinging an arm over Ori's shoulder. "If we'll only be here for a short while, then we'll have to make the best of it." His gaze moved over the joyous children, and Kili's heart warmed as he knew it did his friend's. He didn't want to leave them. "Are you teaching today? Can I stay if you do?"

"I got the day off, remember?," Fili explained. "Sick leave." His thoughts flew to Bilbo, wondering how he was faring. Thinking about his new friend made watching Kili's interactions with Ori easier to bear. "But we can stay here as long as you like. Everyone's responsible for the kids. Every adult, that is. It's how we live. We protect each one as if he or she were our own child. Don't we, Arwyn?" He ruffled the little girl's hair as she passed, a doll in her arms.

"I like kids," Ori admitted. "They're honest. And funny. They don't worry so much about what people think of them."

"Do you worry about what people think of you?" Kili wondered.

The short silence made clear that apparently it was normal to think of other people's opinions. Kili shut up, shuffled his feet together, and shoved away any nasty thoughts that told him he had no idea what he was doing, not really. "I like it here. A lot. But, you know, I want to get to know my brother better than that," he tested the name that everyone else was giving his brother, "Fee."

One of the kids tugged on his slacks. "You are Fee's brother? But he already has one, doesn't he?" She looked up adorably confused. He noticed she was the girl from the crayons.

Kili smiled and nodded at her. "That means he has two now."

"How does that work?"

"I have no idea. It has something to do with cabbages." A story he had stopped believing when he was seven, and as she wasn't seven yet, Kili was sure it was safe to go with cabbages.

" _Cabbages?_ "

"Cabbages. I'll tell you about it some time."

Getting up to his feet again, Kili stepped back towards the door and leaned against the door post. He glowed with joy while he waited.

"I'm not going to lie," Fili told him. "Some of the talents your men bring with them are answers to many of our more serious problems. But Thranduil would never force anyone to stay who didn't want to. In fact, he'd rather have fewer mouths to feed. It's how he thinks."

Fili's stomach felt like a stone, despite Kili's warm smile. _Why bother getting attached?_ he wondered to himself. _He's right. He's only going to leave._

Fili suddenly wished he didn't know Kili was alive. At least then it wouldn't hurt so much when he had to lose him again. He wanted to turn and sprint away into the woods, even though he knew it was foolish to go alone. His heart stuttered in his chest. Panic rose. He just wanted out.

"Fili?" Ori asked, tentatively. "Are you all right? You look pale."


	11. Brotherly Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili get quality time together. The traitor is revealed.

"Fili?" Ori asked, tentatively. "Are you all right? You look pale."

"I think I might have overdone it." Fili clung to the door post. "Dr. Bombadil told me to stay in bed, but I didn't want to. Not today."

"Can I find him for you?" Ori needed only the word, ready to go. He made sure none of the kids saw their teacher as queasy as he was now; nor could Kili. "We can find our way ourselves, don't you worry about that, Fili. Where is the ward? Or we could take you home."

"I just—" Fili couldn't voice the emotions he was feeling. "I think I just need some water, and to sit down. Or maybe some air."

The echoing noise of the kids, the commotion, it was getting to him. He wanted to hug Kili and not let him go. He wanted to push him away and pretend he had never met him. He wanted to turn the clock back forty-eight hours to when things were much less complicated. 

"I think...just some water," he said finally, smiling gratefully.

"Kili!" called Ori. "Can you get some water?"

"Where?" Kili dutifully answered, still unaware of what was passing. The girl with the crayons responded sooner than Ori could reply, however. She grabbed his hand and tugged on it, ordering him to follow her. Mildly amused at her insistence, Kili did.

They walked down two halls before coming to a lavatory. She pointed at the door. "Boys only. I can't go in, but I'll wait here! There are plastic cups next to the water. Mister?" There she shut up.

Kili paused and waited patiently.

"Um. Will you come to school more?"

He smiled, "Maybe," and moved to fetch some water for Fili.

As soon as they returned, Kili handed the water dutifully to Ori. Only then did he see Fili's wan complexion, and he looked at Ori in concern. "What's the matter?"

Ori shot Kili a pointed look. "He's your brother, Kili. He needs you, not me." 

He knelt in front of Fili, who had sat down on a small chair that was made more for a child than a grown man and poorly accommodated him. "Kili's just nervous," Ori explained quietly to the blond. "He wants to make a good impression. I'm sure that's all it is."

Fili nodded, sipping at the water. "I understand," he whispered. "He never knew about me. He never had a chance to wonder what I might be like, to wish he knew me. I'm a stranger, and a poorly-timed surprise on top of that." 

"I'm sorry about your head," Ori told him, pushing Fili's hair to the side and studying the area where his rock had it. "It was really an accident."

"I know," Fili assured him. “We attacked you. You were defending your friends.”

Kili didn't understand what he’d done wrong. He had brought Ori water, only to be reprimanded for it and pushed aside. He was trying, wasn't he? Fili seemed like a nice person, and he would be a nice friend and a better brother. But how was he supposed to know all the right things to say and do from the start? 

So he handed over the cup of water and looked at the floor rather mulishly. He wanted to ask if Fili was all right or if he would be. It was probably not the wisest thing to ask right now—probably one of those things he just had to assume to know the answer to.

"I'll be fine, Ori," Fili assured the redhead, who looked terribly worried. "I feel better already. My bro—Legolas," he corrected, "he says I'm very hard-headed." He got to his feet. "We can play with the kids later tonight. After dinner," he told Kili. "They have more play time after then. So do we. Ori, I'd like to take you to the building where we keep our yarn and give you some. Take whatever you need to keep making what you do. Maybe, if you have time before you leave, you could make something for me."

"Maybe something to protect that hard head of yours," Ori said softly. "Blue, I think, to match your eyes."

"I'd like that," Fili smiled. "Then, Kili, we'll go see the animals, if you want."

Normally, the idea of animals would have had Kili eager as a dog for a dive in the pond. He bridled that enthusiasm for a more dignified, "I'd like that."

None of the kids were happy to see them leave. They whined for Fili to stay and begged the visitors to come back soon. After Ori had finally gotten all three of them outside the classroom, Kili spoke in wonder, "They really like you. I thought teachers had a reputation of being terrible, but you...they adore you. I haven't seen kids that happy since I was one myself."

"Why shouldn't they be happy?" Fili shrugged. "They're alive, they're well fed and taken care of. I love each one like my own. They're the best people I know," he admitted. "You'd make a great teacher, Kili. You're probably a lot more fun than I am."

Kili quickly shook his head. He should be in the back of that class taking notes. Teaching others with his amount of ready knowledge would be disastrous. He quietly walked along until they left the school again and made their way to the warehouse. "It's not so common, you know," he said finally. "Everyone who grows up here is blessed. There aren't even schools outside these woods. There are some people who got friends to educate their kids in reading and writing, and there are some books, but that's it. Sometimes you find others who will teach you. Most of the time, unfortunately, you should just be happy you're alive."

When they stopped in front of the warehouse door. Kili gave Ori a hug. "You'll be fine?" he asked. "Want me to come pick you up later?"

"You're leaving?" Fili asked him. "We won't be long. Maybe there's something in here you need. You know, for your carving." 

"We were...going to see the animals now, right?"

Fili nodded. "Yes, but we're already here. Let's get you both some supplies."

Ori felt as if he'd died and gone to Heaven. Fili gave him ten skeins of yarn of various colors and four pairs of knitting needles, as well as a bag to put them in. He surprised Fili and himself by giving the blond a hug. 

Fili blushed furiously. "Just be sure to put it all to good use. I think you will. I have a good feeling about you. Do you want to come with us to see the farm?"

"Animals make me sneeze," Ori proclaimed. Truth be told, he wouldn't mind going along, but he wanted to give Kili a chance to speak with his brother. "I think I'll go find a spot in the shade and start working on a new project," he smiled. 

"All right then," Fili smiled. "We'll find you later, Ori."

Left alone with Kili again, Fili once more felt self-conscious. "Have you had a lot of contact with farm animals? Cows, and chickens, and such?" he asked. 

If Fili was mindful of his own actions, Kili was looking around stupidly and digging his toes into the sand. Everything he did was somehow under a magnifying glass; he wasn't sure when he did something right or wrong. In that sense, life had been much easier with Thorin, who had always indulged the man closest to a son, but always told him in short words when he was crossing the line. Apparently Kili had just pushed Ori away. He did feel bad about that, but he didn't know whether he had to bring it up.

"None," he admitted. "I've seen pictures of cows and chickens. I've sat on a horse several times, though. I can't say I can ride one, but I wouldn't fall off. They're beautiful creatures. I've asked Mum if I could have one so many times she got so fed up with me." He thought back at that with a familiar warmth in his belly. His mother would always be close to a saint in his thoughts. Kind, but righteous.

Some old men sitting on a bench together looked at them without covering up their interest as they passed. Of course, Kili had been trapped in an underground cell only a few hours back, and now he was out here, walking next to one of Thranduil's sons. He straightened up and then mumbled under his breath, "I think Thorin will want to leave as soon as Bilbo comes out of the hospital. Can we keep him there a little longer?"

"I imagine that's up to Bilbo." Fili smiled at the notion. "I certainly wouldn't mind if he wanted to stay longer. I like him," Fili admitted. 

They walked several blocks in silence, Fili allowing Kili the opportunity to simply look around. Occasionally Fili raised his hand in greeting to a passer-by, but he didn't stop to introduce Kili. He didn't want to overwhelm him. Soon then came to the edge of the block, where a waist-high rock wall began. Kili could see the tops of corn plants poking over the top.

"Our gardens," Fili explained and pointed. "Corn, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, cabbage, and the rest. As you probably realized from the smell, our animals are kept in these buildings."

He led Kili inside the building on the right and the two were greeted by the clucking of well over a hundred chickens. "Careful where you walk," he smiled. "Mind the peeps."

Kili at once looked to his feet, where small black-and-yellow balls of fur scurried about to hide under their mothers' feathers. He pulled his feet in. "I thought when you said you had chickens, you had twenty or something. This, wow, it's almost a little scary! How many of them are there?"

"I don't have an exact count," Fili leaned down and scooped up a bright yellow, fuzzy peep and held it in his cupped hands. "Maybe two hundred laying hens, fifteen roosters, tons of peeps." Cooing at the peep, he rubbed it against his cheek. "Want to hold her?"

Kili stuck his cupped hands out in reply. As soon as the peep sat into his palm and looked around frightfully, a surge of protectiveness had him move his hands with only gentle pressure around the wiggling form to make sure she didn't fall. He held the tiny creature successfully for a few seconds, then tried to pet the chick. "She's soft," he said, in awe. "This is amazing, Fee. The way you live, it's so...peaceful."

"I guess now you can understand why we feel so strongly about protecting it." Fili watched Kili's face soften as he held the tiny trembling creature. "My only regret is that the rest of the world isn't so lucky. I'm sure that there are enclaves out there where people have gotten back on track. But the conditions and suffering we've heard about from those who travel through here—it's the kind of thing that keeps me up at night. I wish I knew how to make the whole world like Caledonia. You know, to rebuild."

"What if we started with Erebor?" asked Kili, unwilling to give up the little creature but putting it on the ground nonetheless. The peep ran off to find its brothers and sisters immediately. "Thorin wants to go there and I do too, but I don't share his thoughts about it being a place to stay. It couldn't be like this place, I don't believe that. But they're adjoining lands, right? What if we could extend this place into Erebor? We could trade, and raise chickens like you, and I'd get to see you more. Well," he sighed then, "I don't know much about politics. There's probably a ton of reasons not to go there. But wouldn't it be nice if we could?"

"You don't want to go to Erebor," Fili whispered. "Believe me when I tell you. It's infested with gangs. Violent ones. The Orcs use it as a stronghold, and their boss, Azog—he's legendary for his violence. Your uncle seems very determined to see his home, I know, but I have a feeling it's only going to disappoint him. And going there—it could spell death for all of you. I wish you wouldn't go."

Kili's eyes became clouded with worry. "Have you told Thorin? Should I? It was his home, but I don't recall anything of that place. I only wanted something better than being locked in the house in fear of bandits every night. That's all. But if there are more bandits there..."

A couple of chicks ran over his feet, and he blinked and smiled, but his eyes remained on Fili. "Thorin is stubborn."

"I'm afraid that if you go there, you'll all die," Fili told him. "I don't want to lose you again, Kili." Habitually, he reached under a nearby chicken and pulled out an egg, placing it aside in a container. "Come, I'll show you the cows. Not sure if you can hold one of them, though."

"Much bigger, right?" Kili reached for Fili's hand and squeezed it once. It was what his mother—their mother—used to do when he felt lost or worried. "We'll see. And if we do go, at least we know what we're up against. But just so you know, I'm not planning on saying any goodbyes that would be final to you."

Together they walked past the chicken run to the stables. Upon arriving, Kili was glad that the cows hadn't been left out to graze yet. If the chickens had been impressive, the sheer size of the cows prevented him from getting close to any one of them. At a six feet distance he nervously muttered, "Here is close enough."

"These give milk," Fili pointed to some black and white animals, placidly chomping on some grain. "Those," he pointed across the meadow to some darker, stockier animals, "are beef cattle. I'm not around when they butcher. I went once, with Legolas, and it made me sick. He loves it, the blood and the cutting. I don't quite understand the appeal. We have pigs, which we also breed and butcher. We have been trying to build a smokehouse, but haven't done so well. I wonder if one of your friends has any idea how to make one."

"Bombur, no doubt." The cows looked friendly enough. Kili didn't trust them though, so he remained right where he was. "There's nothing fun about butchering an animal," said he, appalled that Fili talked of butchering these animals that were kept in pens probably all their lives. "Necessary, but not fun. They give their lives so that we get to survive another day. Your brother, I don't think I like him much if he's that kind of person. Sorry." He took a step forward, and the cow closest to him raised its head. Kili quickly stepped back again. "So, uh, we could go ask Bombur, if you're okay with getting close to him. Otherwise I can ask him by myself. He was in a cell with me."

"C'mere," Fili extended a hand to Kili and pulled him closer to the Holstein. "They're very docile," he told him, petting her flank. "This is Daisy. You can touch her. She won't hurt you."

"They don't eat meat, right?" Because Kili's hand would probably look like a chewy snack if they did.

It turned out that he needn't have worried. Daisy allowed him his hand on her nose without moving back or forth. She was comfortably placid where she stood chewing her breakfast. The hand that tentatively brushed over her coarse hair didn't bother her. Big, brown eyes looked up at Kili's with trust, her jaw moving like she didn't have a care in the world.

Kili stood very still. Then he broke into a smile. "I like it here. And I've gotten a brother on top of that."

"I like it here too. Most of the time anyway," Fili told him, ‘But the things I don't like, I'm not sure I can change anyway. Isn't there some sort of old adage about that? Being smart enough to accept what you can't change, and knowing what those things are?"

"Well, you're talking to someone who left his home in search of something better." Kili shrugged. He pulled his hand away, offered Daisy an awkwardly apologetic look and started walking further down the stall. At the back of the building was another door, ajar. From behind it flooded in the light of the sun. Assuming them to be the meadows, he moved forward to see, but he paused in the middle to wait for Fili.

At the end of the hour, Kili was left with so many impressions that he needed to sit down. He had seen children, and animals, and a good portion of the buildings surrounding the town square. He had a brother. More than that, he wasn't sure he still believed in leaving this place to find something better. It simply couldn't get much better.

The problem remained that Thranduil probably wasn't eager for his former prisoners to stick around.

"I feel tired," Kili admitted. He wasn't happy; he had planned on spending more time in the company of his newly found family. "Is there a place I can lie down? I don't really want to go back to the cells."

"D'you want to come back to my house? See my room? You can sleep in my bed if you want a nap. I'm kinda tired myself," Fili confessed. "It's not far," he added.

Kili nodded. He allowed Fili to lead the way and followed without many words. The woods and the houses kept distracting Kili as they walked. A stream ran through the middle of the square, crossed by several ornate bridges manufactured from wood that undoubtedly someone had made after the war. Everything looked like it was meant to be that way; there were no rust stains—there wasn't a lot of metal to begin with—and no houses were in disrepair.

A sadness fell over him. Thorin was stubborn. It was very likely that Kili would leave Caledonia when Bilbo was ready to go again. When that happened, he might never come back again. He would want to, but the road would not be so forgiving. They didn't know the path and they wouldn't be given a map. All he could hope was that the stream exited the woods somewhere, and that he'd have a red thread to follow back. 

Kili shook off that feeling right as they stopped in front of a door.

"I live here with Thranduil and Legolas," Fili explained, slipping a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocking the front door. It was a cozy two-story home, spacious and clean—considering that three men lived there. "You can look around if you want, beyond the living room, I mean." He knew Kili had been raised in a much less opulent manner and he didn't want him to feel uncomfortable. "Do you want a drink?" he wondered.

His brother had already made his way to the plush couch. Kili remembered his uncle sitting here hours ago, together with Thranduil—who was Fili's father and, apparently, Thorin's special someone. Or something. It was altogether too awkward to consider. Kili didn't know much of those matters, but he had learned enough through observing Ori and Dwalin. "Water, please." He pressed his hands between his knees and swayed while he waited.

A thought came to him then, one that was so odd that it was equally liberating. In all his stories, he had read about a man falling in love with a woman, and he had always considered that to be the standard. The standard that he poorly met. But Ori had found a partner in Dwalin, and apparently the man who had raised him—who had never gotten a wife and kids of his own—turned out to be involved with another man as well.

Lost in those thoughts, he didn't notice until a glass was placed before him that he had been zoning off. Kili rubbed an eye and smiled up at Fili. "Can I sleep here?" he asked, testing the springs of the couch. "It's nice here. I don't want to take your bed if you need a place to sleep later too."

But Fili could see from Kili's expression that he hadn't considered Legolas or Thranduil coming home and finding him on the couch. Worse, Thorin could be coming in and demanding a bed for him. Thorin would do that. Kili sleepily wrapped both hands around the glass of cool water, drank to wake up and wet his throat, then got up still clutching the glass. "I can sleep on the floor if you've got a pillow for me," said he. "Where's your room?"

“Upstairs,” Fili inclined his head in the direction of the stairs. “C’mon.”

\- - - - - 

Tauriel rode hard for the edge of the woods. Having lived in Caledonia her entire life, she knew exactly where and when she could sneak away and not be noticed. She raised a blue flag to the pair of Orc gang members patrolling the edge of the forest. "I have some news for Azog and Smaug," she said with a dark smile. "Tell them that Thorin Oakenshield is alive. And his two nephews. They're talking about riding for Erebor soon with a small party of a dozen or so."

One of the men snorted. "Foolish men. Let them come." Mil wasn't a bad-looking fellow by modern standards, but he and his friend made up for it in viciousness. Sub-dermal modifications and tattered rags adorned his body. His boots were lined with iron, as were his knuckles and his ears. "Have you got an estimate? Any day now? Weeks?"

"One of their party is sick in our infirmary," Tauriel told them, "but Thorin's eager to move on. "I imagine they'd plan to ride within the week. Azog told me personally that the moment anyone sights Thorin to let him know. Obviously he has an axe to grind. Let me know if he needs me to do anything from the inside."

 _Maybe,_ she thought to herself, _if I clear up this mess with Oakenshield, I can finally go home._

She leaned in and gave both men a hug. "Be safe. Thranduil's upped patrols lately and they're always larger than two men." She whispered in Mil’s ear, “You have no idea how much I miss you.”

The man named Mil nodded stoically and, looking around to scan their surroundings quickly, moved along. "I'll let them know who was the messenger," he said as they passed. "Tell nobody else of this."

\- - - - -

When Kili found Ori again—exactly where he had left him, in the warehouse—night had already fallen. He waited a moment to enjoy the sight of his friend still lost in his labor, then whispered, "Ori, dinner is almost ready."

Ori looked up at him. He smiled, massaging one of his wrists with the other hand. "Has it been that long? I got carried away." He reached down and held up an electric blue knitted cap. "Do you think he'll like it? Your brother? I also made one for Thranduil and that brute of a son of his."

With a laugh, Kili sat himself down on the grass next to Ori. It couldn't have been very comfortable sitting there for hours. "I have a feeling the things you made for Thranduil and Legolas are better spent on someone else, but that one for Fili, he'll love it. It suits him. You're fast, making three of them in a day!"

"It's as easy for me as breathing," Ori told him. "The knitting needles are like an extension of my hands. I'm sure when I get older and get arthritis like Dori, I won't enjoy it quite as much. But for now, well, it's one of my two marketable skills. And it certainly gets me in a lot less trouble than the other skill."

Kili opened his mouth to ask what that skill was, but somehow he thought he already knew. "You have a talent with yarn," he acquiesced with a proud tone. In his hands he fiddled a gold woolen string. "I saw the animals today. Cows! I don't think I want to leave. Especially if Erebor is as horrible as Fili says it is."

"Maybe he's lying," Ori suggested carefully. "Maybe he's not telling you the truth because he wants you to stay."

"He wouldn't lie about that. Maybe Thranduil, or Legolas. Not Fili."

"So _now_ you want to defend him." Ori shook his head in wonder. "You spent most of the day acting as if you could barely tolerate being around him. You're a confusing creature, Kili."

"What?!" Kili reared his head. "No, I didn't! When did I do that?"

"Hanging all over me and hugging me in front of him," Ori said gently. "Listen, I don't mind. I liked it. _Loved_ it, truth be told. But I could tell it was upsetting him. I understand if you don't want to get attached. I mean, you're moving on, he's staying. What's the point? But you need to tell him, because it's pretty obvious that he's trying to connect with you."

Kili fell back with a groan. He took no notice of the ground being dirty—it had always been dirty, even though he himself was freshly bathed for a change. "I did that so you wouldn't feel left out. Ori, I _want_ to connect with him. The first thing I thought when I heard he was alive was that I didn't want to lose him again. I made up my mind that if he was a nice guy and he stayed here, then I might too. I have so little family left, and he's my brother. We were born from the same mother. But I don't want everyone else going to a place that's that dangerous …and Erebor, it worries me."

"You don't have to worry about me, Kili," Ori squeezed his hand. "I completely understand. You just found out your brother is alive. You have _got_ to spend time with him. Get to know him. He's really good looking, isn't he? I mean, I think so," Ori smiled softly. "It runs in the family."

"Oh, shut up," Kili mumbled, self-aware. "Yes, he is. I did spend time with him. Then I sort of fell asleep on him. He has this electrical thing that buzzes after a few hours to make people wake up, so we didn't lose much time. There's only a few days that are for certain. I want to know all there is to know about him, just in case I lose him then."

"There's no reason to believe you're going to lose him, Kili. I know our lives can be dangerous, but you mustn't think that way," Ori told him. "If you want him in your life, you have him in your life. It's that simple. Ask him to go with you to Erebor, or stay here."

Ori's solid words reinstated that which Kili had been looking for all afternoon; a grain of confidence. "You're right, of course. But come along now, okay? I was sent to fetch you for dinner. Everyone is in the dining hall already. Oh, wait until you see what's for dinner, Ori. It's like those pictures in old books. Tables laden with food!" 

Kili could barely contain himself when tugging his friend along.

\- - - - -

Fili's face brightened when the pair arrived at the cafeteria and he waved them over. "I saved seats for you," he explained.

It seemed as if the entire town was present—which was more than likely the case. Dishes were being passed around of long, thin flat dough. It was something Kili had obviously never seen before.

"Pasta," Fili told him. "We make it here." He scooped some onto his plate, then passed it to Kili. He demonstrated pouring a fresh tomato sauce laden with basil over it. Newly-baked bread was passed around, followed by butter. "I hope you guys like it. It's one of my favorite meals. Fettuccini."

With big, curious eyes, Kili looked on as the edible worms poured over his plate—a plate which wasn't chipped or discolored at the cracks in the ceramic for a change. He mimicked his big brother in everything, trying to get as much sauce on the plate as Fili had, and broke off two slices of bread. He had first had a decent slice of bread when Thorin and he had found Balin and Dwalin, and he liked it, but he had no idea if he'd like it still hot from the oven, or with butter spread on top of it.

"How do you...?" he started when several of the men started twirling the strands around a fork, using a spoon to keep the pile of pasta together. While trying to copy them, he caught sight of Thorin at the other side of the table and nodded at him, overly proud that he was learning all these things.

Mouth full and chewing, Fili watched Kili in anticipation of his reaction to his first bite.

As he did, Kili's mouth was covered in red sauce. He quickly found himself a napkin to wipe it off, then let the texture roll over his tongue. "Salty!" he said in surprise. "Definitely saltier than I'm used to. But nice! Is that tomatoes?"

"Yes," Fili told him. "I had hoped to show you the garden as well today, but you were tired. We grow tons of vegetables, wheat. Some fruit. Never enough, of course," he smiled. "The kids just love it. You're not used to a lot of seasoning. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for how you've had to live. Thorin says you haven't met a lot of people or tried a lot of things. This all must really be overwhelming for you."

"Makes me feel a bit dumb most of the time." Kili shrugged helplessly, his mouth full and ignorant of the part of etiquette dictating that he eat with his mouth closed. Well, his mother _had_ made comments about it when he was still a kid. It wasn't his fault he had never seen fit to follow those rules when the only people who saw him misbehave at the dinner table were his mother and his uncle. "But that's okay. It's good, learning so many things. Just a bit overwhelming sometimes." He smiled warmly at Fili. "Then there are things you never knew of that are especially nice."

"Like what?" Fili took a long drink from the cup of water in front of him and leaned forward with interest. 

"Spaghetti. Making friends. Having a brother."

"Oh." Fili nodded. "I thought you meant _out there_ ," he said wistfully, jerking his head towards a vague notion of _anywhere but Caledonia._ "As much as you've seen of the world outside your home, it's more than what I've seen. I haven't left these woods in twenty years. I have been to the edge. Thranduil lets us go no further."

Kili leaned back and, as inconspicuous as he could, took in the hall. Nobody was paying them much attention, and those who were, they were too far away to hear. "We could sneak out. Tonight."


	12. A Delicate Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When rain cancels their plans to sneak away, Fili takes Kili home with him. What could possibly go wrong?

Fili's eyes grew large, as if the notion were foreign to him. "Sneak out?" he whispered. "Just the two of us? W-where would we go?"

"Anywhere. I don't know how far the border is. We need to be able to be back in the morning, before anyone wakes up." Kili let him in on a secret. "I used to sneak out all the time. Thorin would say I couldn't leave the house, and we couldn't make fire. It was just going to sleep or doing nothing at all after dark. I couldn't read because I couldn't see, couldn't play with the guitar. It was _boring_. So I sneaked out. He never caught me, you know."

"You, brother of mine, have a rebellious streak," Fili smiled. "I like it."

Ori noticed the conspiratorial body language and their smiles. "What are you two plotting?" he wondered.

"I just told Kili about my father's guitar collection," Fili lied with ease.

Although Kili wanted to ask him more about that at once, growing excited at the idea, he nodded sagely as if knowing what he was talking about. "I'm going to check it out after dinner. Thorin didn't let me bring mine, but maybe I can play one of his." He smiled at Fili. "You should have told me earlier. We could have gone there this afternoon."

"There was too much of the town to see," Fili smiled. "We didn't get around to all of it anyway, did we?" Beneath the table his hand found Kili's and squeezed. _They were going to sneak out._ It sent a thrill through him that he couldn't quite explain.

Kili grinned innocently at Ori, all the while gripping Fili's hand tight. Adrenaline rushed through him. He didn't like bending the truth to Ori, but he was suddenly more than a little excited to be sneaking out with Fili. And not, he noticed, because it meant he'd be spending more time with a brother. "How is Bilbo doing, by the way?" he said, trying to get the subject somewhere else.

"Better," Fili said. "He was sitting up eating some soup when I stopped in earlier. I feel horrible about what happened to him. Life is so fragile, and it's far too easy to just...fuck up," he frowned.

" _Fuck up_ ," Kili repeated, mystified.

"Do something wrong," Ori explained to him, at which Kili nodded. No doubt he had been thinking of other things.

"Well, you didn't know," Kili said, hoping to tell Fili that he didn't think it was his fault, and that Bombur didn't either, so surely Bilbo would forgive him too. "Maybe we can see him later, before we see your dad's collection. And I'm sure that if you had some good tobacco to make up for it, you'd make him a lot happier. Bilbo loves it almost as much as he loves good food. The day he ran out..."

"Something tells me it will be a long, long time before Bilbo touches a pipe again," Fili said quietly. "You weren't there. It was awful. I thought he was going to die right there in front of me."

"But you got him help, Fili," Ori reminded him. "You saved him."

Kili squeezed Fili's hand again. The rush hadn't yet abated, though he subdued it now in lieu of the subject. "Then get him something good to eat. Bilbo doesn't hold grudges. Bombur once sat on his dinner and he forgave him just like that. And Bilbo had been complaining that he was hungry all afternoon before that. He likes tarts and pastries a lot."

Fili chuckled, envisioning Bilbo eating one of the special pastries the cafeteria served once a week. "I can do that. When he's feeling up to it."

\- - - - - 

Tauriel, who had been sitting innocently with her back to the pair all through dinner, smiled to herself. The smile was mirrored in the small boy sitting across from her, who giggled. They were going to sneak out that very evening! Could things possibly work out any better? She put her tray away, smiling at everyone as she left the cafeteria. Once outside, she slipped around the corner and pulled the walkie-talkie Mil had given her from her pocket and turned it on.

"Mil? It's me. I have really good news."

\- - - - - 

After dinner, while there was still a some light left in the sky, Fili took Ori and Kili to see the gardens. "Bilbo says our tomatoes aren't quite as big as those in Bag End," he told them while they passed by the vegetable patches, "but he still seemed impressed. There are men and women here whose full time job is tending and harvesting our crops. Others are trained in canning, preservation and drying. I once spent a day at the flour mill, but the fine particles in the air made me cough. Thankfully I'm not allergic to feathers."

Kili took it all in with awe. But all day he had been learning new things that were wonderful, and while he loved the garden, he was sure that right now Bilbo would appreciate it more. "You should take him here some time," he said. "Who knows, he could share tips with the gardeners." He leaned his weight against Fili. "I want to see your dad's guitars."

Fili blushed and Ori's eyes widened in appreciation. "I...uh, I think I'll go look for Mr. Dwalin," Ori told them. "Maybe he saved me some dessert. Thanks for today, Fili. It was fun." He wave a hand in parting. It appeared as if Kili had finally started warming up to his brother.

"I like him," Fili told Kili. "He seems smart, and he's really funny."

"He's the best friend I could have found. And he's so talented." Kili didn't want to be dismissing his friend. Dwalin would make him forget about Kili in seconds though; he always seemed to do. Above them a rainstorm was building. They were sheltered under the roof of the forest, but nonetheless Kili looked up in dismay. It looked like thunder. He hated thunder. "How about we run for cover at your place and you show me the guitars until that blows over?"

"Okay," Fili bit his lip, "but I have a small confession to make. We only have one guitar. I sort of made up the rest so Ori wouldn't know what we were thinking about doing. C'mon," he pulled at the fabric of Kili's sleeve and they took off at a run towards Thranduil's home.

As soon as they made it there, the first drops started dropping dark blotches on the stone and the dry soil. It must have not rained here for a while. Kili laughed while escaping the raindrops and made it under the roof of the house. He pulled Fili in alongside him, before needing to catch his breath. Kili hadn't had fun like this in a while. "One guitar is fine," he said. "Only until the rain passes." 

He kicked out his shoes and padded into the living room, but wouldn't go anywhere until Fili took him there. This was not his house, and he was still a guest. He did let himself fall onto the plush couch to watch his brother while he moved about. Kili wasn't sure if it was a bad thing, but he couldn't keep his eyes off him. Something about Fili fascinated him immensely.

"I'll be right back," Fili smiled at him and jogged up the stairs. He returned less than a minute later with a dark leather guitar case, which he lay next to Kili on the couch and opened it. Inside was an inlaid wood twelve-string guitar. 

"Please tell me that you can play," Fili looked at him expectantly, handing him the instrument.

The unexpected number of strings didn't put Kili off. In fact, he sat up slack-jawed. "You have a twelve-string! That's...I only know twelve-strings from magazines. Can I...?" He had not thought he’d ever come across a guitar like this, and he was eager to try, if his fingers could handle twice the number of strings he was used to.

But as soon as he strung a chord, he cringed. "When was the last time this guitar was tuned?"

Fili shrugged. "None of us play. My dad's wife did. That's why he kept it. She died a long time ago...shortly after Thranduil found me. I don’t really remember her. I’ve only seen photos. Are you able to tune it—it won't break, will it?"

"If the strings are still sturdy, I might." Kili smiled up at Fili and decided to give it a try. The guitar would be pointless to hold onto if nobody ever tuned it. With the greatest care he turned the screws until at last he pulled the instrument back onto his lap and tried another chord. Satisfied, Kili nodded. He tried a tune—some simple chords in procession, one of his favorites. After those, he looked up at Fili in amazement. "It's easier than I expected. Do you want to try?"

Unable to speak, Fili shook his head. Tears formed in his eyes. He recognized the song, although he hadn't heard it since he was a child. Flashes came to him of a beautiful dark-haired woman singing the hauntingly beautiful tune as she held him on her lap.

"Keep going," he whispered when Kili stopped. "Sing it."

"I'm not very good at singing," Kili apologized. It was only when he realized that Fili recognized the song that he cleared his throat and made an attempt. His voice was hoarse and unpracticed and would occasionally have trouble with the right tone, yet the melody made up for a lot. And so Kili wove a song that reminded them both of the past.

When it stopped, Kili looked at Fili in silence.

In the quiet that ensued, Fili got off his chair and removed the guitar case from the couch, sitting down where it had rested next to Kili. Moving in close, he lay his head on Kili's shoulder. "Play it again?" he asked.

"You remember it, don't you?" Kili's voice wavered. He accounted it to the phenomenon people called stage fright. With unsteady fingers did he go over the chords once again. "She used to sing it to me as a kid. Thorin taught me how to play it."

"Mother sang it. _Our_ mother," Fill snuggled into him, letting the music surround him. "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard. Don't stop."

And so Kili continued to play the song. After the third iteration, tears sprang into his eyes as well. "I miss her," he whispered. "She was wonderful, Fili. She was the best person I knew."

"I'm going to want to hear a lot more about her," Fili squeezed Kili's hand. "You'll tell me, won't you? Tell me everything?" his eyes found Kili's. 

"Anything you want to hear," Kili promised him. The guitar forgotten, he smiled sadly at his brother. "I'm sorry. I spent a lifetime with her and you can probably barely remember her. She was a wonderful mother. She told me stories every night. She would kiss me on the forehead if I bumped my knee. I bumped my knee a lot."

"After I was brought here, I had no mother. I’m told Thranduil’s wife tried… but she was sick." Fili told him. "Don't get me wrong, this town is filled with great women and they all mothered me. But it's not the same." He raised his mouth to Kili's forehead and kissed him softly on the spot. "There you go. In case you bump your knee or something. A poor substitute, but it's something."

Kili closed his eyes and breathed in. He could almost imagine being back in the cottage with his mother, if not for the scent. Fili smelled decidedly different from their mother. It was soap and the faint whiff of chicken runs, and it shouldn't have been as alluring as it was. "I'll bump my knees many times over if it'd make me remember. I'm terrified that eventually I'll forget her. Ask me about her."

"I know she was beautiful," Fili said softly. "Was she kind? Was she funny?"

"Strict." Eyes still closed, Kili laughed. "Dreadful when I did something wrong. But only if she thought I was doing it on purpose, never when she wanted to teach me something. And funny the way she made me laugh about Uncle Thorin. He never thought it was funny."

"Uncle does need to learn to laugh at himself," Fili smiled fondly. "But I'm a little scared to be the one making fun of him. I'm glad Mom was able to do that. I'm sure she was only strict because she probably knew you were sneaking out—even if she didn't tell you."

"She didn't know. I was very good." About that, Fili's brother was adamant. He opened his eyes and offered up the guitar. "Want me to teach you the song, or do you want to go outside? I think the rain stopped."

"We should put it away," Fili confessed, taking the guitar from Kili's hands and putting it into the case. "Thranduil doesn't like it to be touched. It’s special to him. Don't get me wrong, I could listen to you play just that one song all night, but I don't want us to get in trouble. I have to admit, Kili, I was a little worried today. About you."

Pulling his feet up under him on the couch, Kili wrinkled his nose. "Right, that. Sorry. Ori told me. I was just trying not to make him feel left out."

Fili sat down next to him, close enough to be friendly, but not quite as close as before. "You made _me_ feel left out," he told his brother. "I thought maybe you were trying to avoid really getting to know me, since you were planning on moving on anyway."

Kili pouted. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I told Ori, if you turn out to be a nice guy, which you are, then I'm not planning on getting separated from you that soon. What is the point? We left home to find a better life. I found you. Either you're coming with us, or I'll ask permission to stay here. Erebor is Thorin's dream. I would have gone there with him, but that's because he is family and I want to be with my family. But now you are too." He was almost in tears again. "I wasn't planning on leaving you, Fili. It'd feel empty."

"Oh, Kili," Fili moved closer to him, cupping a hand around the back of Kili's head and drawing him forward so that their foreheads touched, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You have no idea how important you are to me. I've spent my whole life fantasizing about what life would be like if my little brother were alive and with me. And now my dream's come true."

Kili opened his eyes for a second, and he nearly pulled away when he saw how little space was left between them. Even Ori had not been that close. It was awkward and unsettling. But this was Fili, who was his brother, and raised very differently at that. "I just tried to be happy, so you would like me. I feel so stupid around everyone, but I didn't want you to think I'm a bothersome person. Mom used to say that complaining people are people who aren't happy. I'm happy." He chanced opening his eyes and meeting Fili's gaze. "How is your life going to be, now that I'm here?"

"It's wonderful, Kili!" Fili exclaimed, hugging him like how he'd wanted to since the moment they met. "How could you think for one moment that I wouldn't like you? I _love_ you!"

Overwhelmed by that sudden move, Kili laughed and mumbled something inaudible. He couldn't respond until Fili gave him space and, when Fili did, the words wouldn't come. So Kili did the only thing he could think of and kissed him on the cheek. He grinned. "Let's catch up tonight. We can sneak away tomorrow. I want to hear everything about you that I missed."

Fili's blue eyes studied Kili's face for a moment. His body was thrumming with a frightening sensation he'd never truly felt before—raw desire. _But he's your brother!_ a voice in his head was quick to remind him. 

It didn't seem to matter.

"Kili," he said gently, testing the name on his tongue. Then, "Kee. I think I want to kiss you."

"Like on the—oh…" Kili pulled back. He didn't want to look past Fili or up, so he looked at his hands, terribly flustered. "I've never kissed someone before. Should we—well, your dad can come in any moment, right? Should we do that here?"

"I can't wait that long," Fili told him, solemnly, and leaned forward, brushing their lips together every-so-slightly. He wanted to give Kili every opportunity to stop him.

Kili, well, Kili twitched. The touch was electric and—while having expected the kiss to be more passionate like it used to be in the books, with roving hands and urgent sounds—his system felt wholly on fire. Was that how a kiss was supposed to feel? He knew that he wanted it though, in some primitive, irrational part of his brain and his body, and he clumsily puckered his lips to press against Fili's. Any time now, he knew he was expected to part his lips. But Kili's heart was pounding. He couldn't think straight. This wasn't what brothers were supposed to do.

Well, right now the fact that they were brothers mattered less than the promise he had made to his mother. Kili's eyes teared up. "I never thought I'd do this with anyone."

"How could you _ever_ think that?" Fili stroked his cheek with his thumb. "Kili, you're so beautiful. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

"Because up until a few months ago, I didn't meet people," he said sadly. "I like guys. I never told anyone that. I'm ruining the moment, aren't I?"

"No," Fili touched his knee to Kili's. "You're here, I'm here. What could possibly ruin it?" Fili leaned in and kissed him again, this time with more insistence. 

Kili leaned in on instinct this time. He had no clue what he was doing, but it felt nice, and it felt better when he relaxed his lips—and then more so when they moved slowly against Fili's. It wasn't a battle. Whoever had thought to describe kisses as battles in books had been horribly misinformed. What Kili experienced was a delicate dance. He breathed in a trembling breath and allowed Fili into his personal space as he sank back into the pillows of the couch. At last, and without any thought, he parted his lips.

Fili leapt at the invitation, and his tongue made momentary, thrilling contact with Kili's—right before the front door opened.

Legolas stood there, panting, rain dripping from his hair. "What the _hell_ are you two doing?" he gasped. "You can't...I mean...surely you're not..." he sputtered. "Get off him!" he ordered Fili. "And you!" he turned to Kili. "Get out of this house!"

Kili sat like a deer in headlights, before scrambling up and off the couch. He caught Fili's eyes once, and Fili knew that Kili was terrified. He had only barely begun to process the kiss and the emotions that came along with it, before Legolas made damn sure that he knew it had been a dreadful, monumentally _wrong_ thing to do. That realization hit Kili like a brick. He pressed a hand to his mouth to stifle any sound as he pushed past Legolas, his eyes cast down.

He didn't know where to go. The others had been appointed quarters to spend the night, but Kili was unaware of their location. He knew where to find the school and the caves, and possibly the farms. That was it. So he found the first secluded shade in the vicinity, where people wouldn't look at him oddly, and sat down in shock.

Fili sat on the end of the sofa, trying to make himself as small as possible. "It's not what it looks like," he said to Legolas, in a voice nearly above a whisper.

"It _looks_ like you were kissing your biological brother," Legolas advanced. "How is it not what it looks like? You've been going on and on how he's your brother, and now you're _kissing_ him?!"

"I couldn't help it," Fili could feel that his face had reddened in shame. "I—we were sitting so close to one another, and he was sad, and he's just so...so..."

" _—your brother_ ," Legolas hissed. "God, you've heard of the word 'incest' before, haven't you? You think dad will let you go along to Erebor if he finds out about this?" He paced before Fili. "You could have at least made sure you weren't in the living room."

"It just happened!" Fili told him. "I hadn't planned it. I'm fond of him, Legolas. I'm sorry. Please, don't tell Father," he begged. "I won't do it again!"

That was all Kili needed, seated opposite the small street under a roof, to really understand that he had fucked up. Five minutes before, Fili had wanted to kiss him, and Kili had wanted him to. He had surrendered his inner walls and accepted that what he was feeling was okay. Apparently though, it was considered a moral travesty instead. Fili couldn't have pushed him away easier than he did with those words.

Kili sat there only until he was sure his limbs could support him. Then he got up and just walked, mindless of where he was going. Anywhere was better than where he was now. By some chance of fortune his path took him past the school and passing by the guest quarters, where he waited long enough to be sure he'd only catch Ori upon entering, and not his uncle or anyone else who would wonder why he looked so dreadful.

In the shadows, Kili sat down on the bed opposite Ori—empty probably for Kili's sake—and whispered, "Are you awake?"

Ori rolled over to face him. "Hey," he smiled. Then he noticed Kili's tear-stained face. "Kili? What's the matter?"

"...I kissed Fili." Kili all but fell on his bed and buried his face in the pillow. "It was stupid."

Ori sat up with interest. "You _what?_ " he whispered. "On the cheek, you mean? Right?"

"Of course not!" Kili cried. "That wouldn't have been bad!"

"You kissed him on the mouth?" Ori gasped. "Listen, I don't know if anyone ever told you this, probably not, but you're not supposed to do that with someone you're related to. Ugh, the thought of doing it with Nori or Dori...eww," he shuddered. "Of course, if you or Fili were my brother, I might be willing to bend that rule a little."

"I don't know!" cried Kili into the pillow. "He asked me, so I thought—"

" _He_ initiated?" Ori grinned. "Oh, Kili. Wow. He likes you. Do you like him? Oh, but it had to be weird, right?"

Kili stifled another cry. "What does it matter? It'll never happen again!"

"Do you _want_ it to happen again?" Ori sat forward on his bed. "Or was it awful?"

"It wasn't awful at all, Ori. Is that bad of me?"

"Well," Ori was quiet a moment as he gave the matter some thought. "We live in a different world now. He may be your brother by blood. But you guys just met. It's not like you grew up together or have a history together. And it's not like you're going to have babies or anything, " he chuckled. "It's like...he's just a guy, right? And that's okay, I think."

Sitting upright on the bed, Kili looked at Ori. Even in the darkness Ori could see the red-rimmed eyes. "Legolas found us. Fili told him it'd never happen again."

"Oh, shit," Ori muttered sympathetically. "That must have been horrible. When Fili said it wouldn't happen again...did he say that to you?"

"To him. Does it matter, Ori? I think I really like him."

Ori tried vainly to hide the disappointment he was feeling. "Kili, I'm glad. I'm really glad you're having these feelings. But are you sure it's _romantic_ , the feelings you're having? Or are you just happy to have discovered your brother after so long?"

"I'm not sure." Kili sniffed, slowly managing to find his calm, though it did not help make him feel less miserable. "My heart was beating really fast, and I felt hot. It was natural to kiss him. But then Legolas came in. I told him, we shouldn't be doing that in the living room. He said he couldn't stop himself." A faint smile despite the following events graced his lips at the last words.

"Well, clearly Fili is having strong feelings about you," Ori admitted. "But don't think that you have to give into them, just to get him to like you, Kili."

Kili firmly shook his head. "I've been looking at him all night. I don't know why, but I kept being _fascinated_ by him. I don't think it's just him. Have you ever been in love? How did it feel for you?"

"Well," Ori sat back against the wall, tucking the covers in around his feet, "it feels like you don't want to be apart from that person. Looking at them makes you feel funny in your stomach—and other places. You know—aroused? Their voice is like the sweetest song you've ever heard. They're the first thing you want to see when you wake up, and the last person you want to talk to before you fall asleep."

He gave the matter a moment's consideration. "But it usually takes a while to get to know a person before you actually find you love them. What you're feeling is probably lust."

Mentally Kili was comparing what Ori said to how he had felt. He frowned to himself. "I want to see him again, and kiss him again. You're also talking about the other thing right?" he bit his lip and flushed. "That's too soon, I think. I mean, I don't even know how a man and a man would do that."

Ori chuckled and blushed. "It's not all that complicated," he shrugged, "and it's fun, once you get the gist of it. Regardless, whether what you feel is lust or love, you two need to get to know each other better. You've known him less than forty-eight hours. Who knows? Maybe he's got a scary psycho secret."

Kili quirked a brow at him and threw the closest soft thing in his reach at him, which turned out to be a pillow. But it only remedied the sadness temporarily. "He said we wouldn't do it again."

"He lied," Ori shrugged. "He was saying that to make Legolas happy. He doesn't want Thranduil—or, god forbid—Thorin, to find out."

"Mom said to follow my heart," Kili responded. His stubbornness reminded Ori of Thorin. "I want to do that." He fell flat on the bed again. "Oh Ori, it was incredible. He's a wonderful person. I played a twelve-string tonight, you know. Funnily enough, I can hardly think about that after everything else. I'm so sorry. You said I'd find someone and I didn't believe you. I still can't believe it. But the idea that it might not happen again does things to me."

"Then you need to do something about it," Ori said resolutely. "Nothing crazy, of course," he warned. "But if it's really what you want, you have to go after it."

\- - - - 

Fili had gotten Legolas to tentatively agree not to tell Thranduil about what he had witnessed, but he was certain Legolas would find a way for him to pay for it. It seemed as if Legolas had bought his story about being confused. After all, Fili had taken a couple bumps to the head over the past few days and couldn't be expected to act completely normal, could he? Despite a residual headache, Fili didn't feel in any way impaired or irrational. He _felt_ something. He'd never felt something like that before. It had to mean something.

He had to go see Kili and find out.

Legolas had stationed himself in the living room, which was the only decent way out, and had found the guitar. He drew a hauntingly eerie song from the same instrument that had performed the song of Fili's mother before, then discarded it without another thought and reached for a pair of headphones.

He left Fili with no choice but the windows.

Frowning, and finding Legolas' vigilance somewhat comforting, Fili retreated back upstairs. He had a backpack somewhere in his closet. He filled it with several changes of clothing, hoping at least one of them would fit Kili. There was no tree next to his bedroom window, but his father's had a pine tree nearby. He was able, after a bit of mental preparation, to make the leap to the tree and scale down it to the ground with only a small scratch on his wrist for his efforts.

Thorin and his company had been given shelter in the school. He decided that would be the most logical place to look for Kili. Thankfully, he heard him before he saw him. He paused outside the door to the room the voice was coming from once he heard his own name mentioned.

It sounded almost as if Ori were trying to talk Kili out of a relationship with him—which would be wise—but Kili's responses set Fili's mind at ease.

Unaware of their audience, Kili smiled stupidly into the dark of the room. They were nice quarters—a lot better than the caves, too—and they smelled of pine and something else, something natural and yet sweet. He could not see much of the space itself, but the bed was soft, almost as soft as Fili's couch, and he wished he could fall asleep on it. Something in him was still restless however. "You think Legolas is jealous?" he pondered. "I mean, he's been making jabs, and I can't imagine he'd be happy either way to find me with someone else. Or is that stupid thinking? I don't care that he's my brother, you know. I frankly don't understand why I shouldn't like him like that because he's my brother. Why is that anyway?"

"Mostly so brothers and sisters don't have babies together, I guess," Ori told him. "They say it can make deformed babies. Not that you need to worry about that, Kili. So, he really just leaned in and kissed you? Just like that?"

"No. He asked me first. I agreed. Brothers and sisters make deformed babies? That's horrible. Thank god we can't get kids then, I suppose."

"Sometimes they do, apparently," Ori yawned. "Something to do with genetics. I wouldn't mind learning more about that. He asked you? That's very nice. Still, it seems so sudden. You barely spoke at all yesterday. Why did you say yes?"

"I like him, Ori," Kili sighed wistfully. "I've wanted him to like me since the moment I found out I had a brother, but then I really met him. The things he does...he's an incredible person. He knows so much, and he's compassionate. I almost feel like I can't compete. I don't know, somehow I couldn't keep my eyes off him since the moment we got to his dad's place."

"Kili, life isn't a competition," Ori said softly. "My brother Dori tells me that before the war, everyone was always trying to out-do everyone else. _Just find something you're good at—something you enjoy—and stick with it. That's the key to being happy,_ he said. And you know what? He was right."

"That's easy for you to say." Biting his lip, Kili looked up at the ceiling. He didn't think he saw one crack in the plaster. "You all know so much about things. I hadn't even seen a chicken before yesterday. I have no idea how even to go about having someone I like. There's no book that just has all the rules written out for me."

"If such a book existed, would you trust it?" Ori chuckled. "Every time is different. Every _person_ is different. You just, you know, _discover_ one another."

Kili smiled upon hearing that. "All right." He closed his eyes and breathed out, his heartbeat slowing to a comfortable pace to fall asleep on. "You're the best, Ori. Good night."

Fili stood waiting by the door. Should he go in? He wanted to, desperately. He waited a moment longer, not wanting the pair to think he was eavesdropping, then stepped into the doorway and knocked softly on the frame. "Kili?" he ventured.


	13. Meeting of the Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a new chapter, but it's a very important update nonetheless.

Today BlueMonkey and ThornyHedge, who have been writing together since March 2013, met for the first time. Blue was visiting the United States from Holland and I drove down to Washington, D.C. to spend some time with her. We actually had a chance to sit together and talk about how we want this story to turn out... and about our next adventure.

And, we visited the hall of Gems & Mineralogy at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, which is where Dean and Aidan cemented their relationship in "Undercover Affair," so it was a really nice way to get together. 

We're so happy to have been able to meet each other IN PERSON and plan ahead. Please wish her well as she flies back across the Atlantic tomorrow.


	14. A History of Falling Into Each Other's Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili and Kili spend the night in a treehouse. Fili begs Thorin not to take his company to Erebor. Bilbo is liberated from the medical bay--in an unconventional manner.

Too little time had passed for his restless brother to be fully asleep. Kili opened his eyes, processed what he had heard, and gasped. At once he was out of bed, pulled Fili inside and closed the door. "Fili! What are your doing here? Legolas, he—"

Fili raised his finger and put it gently over Kili's lips. "Shhh," he smiled. "I followed your advice. I snuck out. He won't be happy about it, but I had to come after you. Are you all right?" He wagered a glance in the direction of Ori's bed, where the redhead was trying valiantly to feign sleep.

A soundless nod as reply confirmed that Kili was sure Ori wasn't actually asleep. Kili didn't care. He nipped at Fili's finger, trying for something not quite the magnitude of a full kiss but certainly hinting that he was having no regrets, and looking forward to the next time they were alone again. "Much better now that you're here. I don't regret what I did, Fili."

"I'm so relieved," Fili wrapped his arms around Kili and hugged him tightly, a hand venturing up to delve into Kili's thick, dark hair. "Do you want me to leave? Let you get some sleep?"

"You think I could sleep like this?" grinned Kili. He pulled Fili closer against him. "Ori might though. We could go for a walk. Are there places Legolas doesn't go?"

Fili bit his lip and thought for a moment. "I know a place," he said, squeezing Kili's hand. "C'mon." He pulled the brunet out the door and slipped softly down the hall, bidding him to follow. Once outside, he said at a normal volume, "When we were younger, Legolas and I built a tree house. I still go there from time to time, but he hasn't returned in years. I'm sure he wouldn't think to look there."

They padded down the hall carefully. Kili quickly slipped into the shoes he had carried along upon exiting the area, as soon as they got out of the compound. A tree house. He had never been in a tree house, but it certainly ranked high on his list of romantic locations. He laughed quietly and full of anticipation, while Fili guided him past the river, through the shadows and barely out of sight from one of the guards.

They crept up some twenty ladder rungs in the utmost dark. The tree creaked, but it offered sturdy support. Kili crawled blindly into the confines of a small wooden house. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Then the latch was closed and a kerosene lantern kindled in the dark. 

He looked around in wonder. It was—it was almost a kid's room. There were shelves on the walls with books and something that looked very much like an ashtray. Some discarded bottles of the dreadful beverage they called Coca Cola, and plenty of pillows on the floor. "It's beautiful!" he whispered. "Can nobody see us here?"

"We'd hear them coming," Fili assured him. "There’s only one way in. Legs and I used to play here. I haven't been up here in a few years, but it's held out well, considering the weather."

And it had. Everything Fili had brought here—the lantern, matches, comic books, snacks—was where he had left it, for better or for worse. In the corner were two bean bag chairs. Fili picked one up and fluffed it up, then gave it a sniff. Satisfied, he sat it down, then fluffed the other, setting them side by side. 

"Bean bags," he told his brother. "Thranduil told me they were all the rage in the 1970s."

The bags sank under their weight, settling into large, dented mushrooms on the rough wooden floor. Kili snorted, amused, when he nearly fell back after distributing his weight wrongly. "There has to be a way to do this right!" he insisted and tried again. His final attempt ended in him leaning his shoulder against Fili and resting his cheek there. "Funny chairs." 

Kili silenced then, as if waiting for Fili to start about what they were doing.

"Heh, yeah," Fili smiled. "We brought them up here to the fort because no one wanted them in their homes. They're more challenging to get out of than into. You’ll see." He reached for Kili's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry about earlier—about Legolas. You were right. We should have gone upstairs. I was just afraid that if I waited, I might have lost my courage."

"It happened." The other man shrugged. He felt too good to be dragged down by the memory of that painful moment. "You're here though. You said it wouldn't happen again. I heard that. I don't—" He chewed on the inside of his mouth. He was going to say he didn't know what to do. "Can I?"

With care, Kili maneuvered himself to sit on his knees, balancing his weight, and leaned in to brush his lips against Fili's. Kili smiled. Oh, that was really nice. Still tingly, still scary, but more exciting than anything.

"Yes," Fili murmured against his mouth, "please, Kili. I didn't mean what I said. I was just trying to calm him down. I want to kiss you," he insisted, fingers curling a lock of Kili's hair around them, "and touch you."

"I don't know how that goes," Kili mumbled back despite moving closer, his hands cupping Fili's jaw—admittedly he had picked up that idea from a romance novel, but it felt right as soon as he tried it—and his weight shifting forward without intent. "Can we try that another night? This—I've never kissed someone like this before."

Fili nodded. "Still, I'd like more than just our lips to touch. You're touching me now." Fili leaned into Kili's palm, then lifted his hand to Kili's hip. "And I'm touching you. Do you want me to stop?"

Kili looked at the hand. He shook his head. "Just leave it there." He was not yet ready for Fili to confirm between them that Kili's body had begun to already respond. His lips parted once again to allow his brother past. Kili groaned. His temperature had reached feverish heights. And although he had wanted Fili to take initiative and show him how this was done, he found his tongue darting out for a taste by instinct.

Before Kili knew what he was doing, he had straddled Fili and they were kissing the way people did in the books.

When they finally pulled apart for breath, Fili gasped, "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Not at all," grinned Kili in reply, mildly proud that for once he came across as someone who knew what to do, and at the same time not wanting to stop. "It's _really_ good." He was confident now that Fili wasn't going to back out, and so Kili tried a couple of playful nips at Fili's lower lip, which ended with him licking into his brother's mouth again. He took to it like a fish to swimming. Tens of minutes passed by without them noticing it.

Kili also noticed that he was getting more and more aroused the longer they kissed. He was positive that he didn't want _that_ yet, but his body refused to live by the rules in his head and was making him squirm. At last he broke away and panted. "I want to be doing this with you every day."

A smile began in Fili's eyes and spread across his features like a glorious sunrise. "I do too," he said softly, caressing Kili's hair. "But it's not going to be possible if we stay here, is it? Everyone knows who we are to one another. I don't think I could bear having everyone look at me and talk to me like Legolas did tonight. I can't imagine how Thorin and Thranduil would react if they found out."

Kili whined. "Sure they will. They'll need time to get used to it, but I can't think that they're already seeing us more like brothers than we think of ourselves."

Fili canted his head to the side, studying Kili. "Love—romantic love between siblings—it's, like, one of the worst things a person can do. At least, that's what I've been told. You've been sheltered, Kili, and maybe you don't know this, but I'm pretty sure it's against the law—or what used to pass for laws before the war. Maybe we're in a different world now. Maybe those laws don't apply. Aren't you scared?"

"Well, but he's my uncle. And Thranduil is your father, or at least he has been for as long as I’ve lived. We would lose them if we continued, and each other if we stopped. Is it that bad that they wouldn't be able to look past it?"

"I don't know," Fili sighed sadly, lowering his weight down onto Kili and snuggling into him. He was quiet for a few moments. "Do you ever get lonely, Kili? Like, so frightfully lonely, even when you're surrounded by people?"

Kili pulled him closer. "All the time. I used to think I wouldn't find anyone, and most times I was okay with that, but sometimes..." He reached up for a gentler kiss. "I think Mom knew. She made me promise something to her just before she left us. That's why I know this is okay." His hands caressed Fili's cheeks with a touch light as gossamer. "Maybe we should hide it for now, just so nobody pushes us away."

"What did you promise Mom?" Fili wondered, eyes beginning to droop.

"Follow my heart if I found someone," Kili smiled. "Hey now, don't fall asleep. I need to get back to Ori, and you to your bed, or we'll not have heard the last of it."

"Not quite yet, please," Fili insisted, inhaling Kili's scent deeply. "Just a little while longer."

\- - - - -

By the time Kili snuck back into the bedroom that he shared with Ori, purples and pinks were creeping into the sky and his lips were raw from kissing. None of his mother's literature had warned him about that. But Kili lay down with a broad smile and snuggled into the sheets. He fell asleep feeling warm and hopeful.

A bell ringing woke them all a few hours later. Ori hadn't heard it ringing when they were downstairs in their cells the previous morning, but today it was frightfully loud, considering that it came from the schoolyard outside the window.

"God _damn,_ " he muttered, pulling his pillow up over his head. "There better be a fire...or someone had best be dead."

"Good morning." Fili stood by the doorway. "Sorry about the bell. It wakes us—well, most of us—each morning. It's seven thirty," he told them. "Breakfast in twenty minutes. Make sure he's all right? I'll see you there." He smiled affectionately at Kili's still slumbering form, and turned away.

"You all wake at the same time?" Kili groaned. By then Fili was gone though, and so Ori became the recipient of Kili's dreadful mood during his waking minutes. "Twenty minutes. God, can you wake me up in fifteen?"

"I didn't hear you come in," Ori eyed him curiously. "How long were you gone?"

"...Long enough." The sheets rumpled when Kili, despite his grogginess, stretched like a cat with an equally pleased smile. "Ten more minutes? I'm so incredibly tired."

"You were out with him _all night!_ " Ori practically crowed. "Oh, I'm so jealous! I just don't know which of you I'm more jealous of. Both of you, I suppose. Did you...you know...take off your clothes?"

With questions like that, the brunet was waking up faster than expected. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. The warmth of his happiness painted every move. "I asked him not to. I think I wanted to? But I’m not ready; too fast, that. God. Ori, please don't tell anyone. I'm trying to keep it a secret."

"I won't tell, Kili. I swear," Ori told him. "I can think of no one who deserves happiness more than you. I know you're tired, but do get up. We need to find the others, and find out how Mr. Baggins is doing."

"Right, and have food. Eggs and sausages for breakfast, I'm not sure my stomach can handle that." He looked at it funnily. "Still feels fuzzy. Is that normal?" Kili changed into his baggy borrowed clothing from the day before. They still hadn't gotten back their clothing, and he wondered if they were supposed to. Ori was already waiting for him when he finished. They made it to the dining hall on time and got in line at the cafeteria.

Kili avoided Legolas' look. It was probably one of repulsion, and he wasn't up to dealing with that. So he adamantly looked wherever Legolas did not until they were past him.

Of course, breakfast would have been a peaceful, sleepy affair, if not for his uncle, suddenly beside him when he declared, "Eat as much as you can. We leave before midday."

Fili, who had just come up behind Kili to surprise him, ended up being the one surprised instead. "No," he gasped. "Thorin, wait..." He raised a finger to Kili, indicating that he wanted him to stay behind while he talked to Thorin. Then he followed his uncle to a table. Despite the fact that Fili wasn't carrying a tray, he sat down across from the man.

"Uncle," he said quietly, hoping none of the others were listening, "you cannot go. Not to Erebor! It's far too dangerous. The place is overrun by a gang called the Orcs, led by one of the worst crime bosses you can imagine. Please, reconsider. Stay here, with me."

Thorin looked at him icily. "Tell that to the man who raised you. I cannot stay another day in this place with him. It's past time that we go on. Bilbo must be feeling good enough to rest on the wagon. You can't talk me out of this, Fili, but I hope that you’ll come along."

Fili shook his head. "It's a suicide mission, Thorin," he insisted, reaching forward a hand and closing it firmly over his uncle's. "I don't want to lose you. Not now."

"Staying here is suicide," Thorin spat. "We leave after breakfast. It's up to you if you want to come."

"You're angry," Fili deduced. "Thorin, what is it?"

"Your father," and Thorin said that with as much patience as he could muster up, made worse by the fact that he still refused to see Thranduil as having brought Fili up as a surrogate father, "has decreed that if we are to take the route to Erebor, he will send word of our coming. He is so much as handing us over."

"He cares for you," Fili said softly. "That much is obvious. For all the posturing and protesting you both do...he cares. I saw it myself yesterday." Fili blushed. "He doesn't want you to go, Thorin. I don't want you to go."

Thorin sought for calm words despite his indignation. There were none. "He cares enough to send us into danger, just like before. That is who Thranduil is. We can only go back. My sister—your _mother_ —wanted us to go to Erebor. Am I to stop simply because of his sore attempts at waylaying us? I think not."

"But...he's not sending you," Fili reminded him. "You are sending _yourselves._ Does it mean nothing to you that we are warning you about the danger? I have seen many pass through here with thoughts of revisiting Erebor. None have returned. The Orcs...they are a genuine threat. Some of your men are old. And Ori and Kili—"

"And Ori and Kili?" Thorin challenged him.

"I don't want anything to happen to them," Fili said firmly. "But it seems as if you do!" Frustrated, he stood up and stormed out. 

Fili found Thranduil in his office in the municipal building, an untouched plate of breakfast in front of him, when he stormed in unannounced. "What the hell are you trying to do? I was under the impression that you cared for him!"

Offended like a mother to a roaring, irrational child, Thranduil stared at him. It was obvious that things had changed, because he was cold as marble and brittle as a sandcastle. "Excuse me?"

Fili drew in a deep breath. "Thorin," he explained. "Why are you sending him away, Dad? I—I saw you yesterday. You were _intimate_ with him. Do you care for him? And if you do, why are doing this? Threatening him? Sending him to certain death or a lifetime of torture and slavery?"

"And he wouldn't if he were smart. If he used his head and stopped blaming everything that happens on everything else but himself." Thranduil stood up. "You weren't supposed to see that. I stand by my decision, Fee. Besides," and he deflated back into his chair, index finger curved against his lips pensively, "I wasn't planning on informing those Orc bastards. No doubt Thorin will have informed you that I mentioned that. The woods are big. He wouldn't know if I sent them on the wrong path. Their map, it's _childish_."

Fili's face fell. "My mother made that map," he whispered. "It's not childish. It's from memory. She was sick, and she died. Her last hope was for Kili, the only son she knew she had. She wanted him to find his home." Fili didn't want to say anything to Thranduil that he'd regret, he owed him too much for that. "You and Thorin," he finally settled on, "you have a history. He means something to you. I don't quite understand how you both demonstrate your feelings, but I know what I saw."

Thranduil however snorted. "History? Yes, a history of falling into each other's beds. That's what you saw, nothing more and nothing less." He had tried pursuing Thorin for more than that, once. Then Erebor fell, and his chances along with it. Thorin might still have an interest in his body, but he most certainly had lost all kindness he had offered Thranduil once. A sadness fell over him. "I would have liked to have you here with me longer, Fee."

Thranduil's desolate tone saddened Fili. "I don't want to leave. I'm happy here," he confessed. And it was true. Despite the routine nature of his days, Fili was no fool. He knew how badly people lived outside of Caledonia. He often felt guilty about the health and relative safety he was afforded here. A part of him wanted to tell him about Kili, how he seemed to have fallen for his newly-discovered brother. But he wisely did not.

"You've been my caretaker—my _dad_ —most of my life. I love you. I hope you know that I do. I don't want to leave you. I want _them_ to stay. But they won't, Thranduil. Because they feel they have no choice but to leave."

And Thranduil seemed like he understood that. "I simply do not want to see him again," he said, closer to defeat. "Throw him in one of the outskirt villages—out near Bard—and I'd be fine with it. But it's not me who chooses to leave. You'd have to convince that sawdust head of Thorin's rather than me. It is he who wishes to leave. Me, I'm just—"

He was just trying to keep him around.

"Hey," Fili walked around the desk to his father's side. "Hey..." He leaned in and hugged him tightly. "I'll try talking to him again, okay? This...this _thing_ between you two—whatever it is—you have got to work it out. Life is too short. You always tell me that, don't you?"

"I do." Thranduil was tired, so very tired of everything. He allowed Fili to calm him and slumped wearily into his seat. Nobody saw him like this but his two sons—as far as he was concerned, Fili still counted as one of them—and none would. "If they do go, would you go with them?"

Fili opened his mouth when noise from outside roused them both. 

Thranduil was up at the door before Fili could make it there. "What—?" he started. 

One of the guards was leaning against the wall outside. Blood was gurgling down one flank, and his pale hand clutched at the stone to keep upright. "—Found us," he gasped. "Orcs. Took the farmer. I—I need a doctor."

Fili gave a horrified gasp. “Bilbo?”

Tauriel, watching from a small distance, smiled smugly. Things hadn't gone exactly as she'd hoped. She'd hoped that Fili might have been with Bilbo visiting when she ushered Mil and his friends into the back entrance of the medical building. But things had gone well enough. 

The doctors and nurses hadn't been prepared for the onslaught. None were killed, but the fracas became a bit more deadly when the guards heard the noise and tried to stop the abduction. Mil had taken a sword to his forearm, but no one was killed.

"Haldir!" she cried, rushing up to the injured man on Thranduil's doorstep. "I told you not to leave. Dr. Bombadil needs to take care of you!"

"How did they get so close?" Fili wondered eyes wide. "Oh...Bilbo..." He knew the chances of recovering his friend were next to impossible. "Why him?"

"I think they were ransacking the building for supplies," Tauriel provided, slipping her arm around Haldir's waist gingerly. I sent a dozen men after them, Thranduil."

Thranduil nodded. His previous sentiment forgotten, he stood again regally demanding. "Send a dozen more. I want them dead before they can make it to the edge of the forest. And take me there." He slipped into his coat and allowed Tauriel to proceed beside him to where some of his men had gathered outside. He sent one of the guards to retrieve Legolas, who had been trained as a tracker since he was a little boy.

"Which way did they go?" Thranduil asked Tauriel. "They cannot bring word back of our location. If they do, we are doomed." To Fili, he added shortly, "They will pillage this place. We assumed the Orcs didn't enter the woods, which was what made them safe. I understand you're concerned about the farmer, but understand I will do whatever it takes to make sure that party doesn't make it back to Erebor and report our location."

Fili was terribly worried about Bilbo. He'd only known him a short while, but knew the mild-mannered gentle man was destined for a horrible fate if not rescued. To Fili, the look on Tauriel's face seemed less than concerned about Bilbo or Caledonia. In fact, if Fili didn't know any better, she almost looked happy.

"Dad," he leaned closer, "we should take the four-wheelers. Are they gassed up?"

Thranduil inclined his head. "Stop by the guests. They could be helpful. Besides, it's one of their own. Tell Thorin, too. Perhaps this will get it into his head what we're dealing with."

As soon as Legolas appeared, Thranduil became occupied with arranging the hunt for the Orcs. He looked worried when Fili left them—harried.

Most of the people that surrounded Kili were concerned. In the cafeteria, it was a downright chaos. Thorin could be seen demanding that he got his belongings back, backed up by Balin and Dwalin. Kili looked around wild-eyed, and Ori was a downright firecracker. "What is going on?! Can someone tell us what is happening?"

A hand landed on Thorin's shoulder and he turned to see Fili. "It's Mr. Baggins," Fili told him quietly. "Some members of the Orc gang, maybe half a dozen or so, broke into the infirmary. Tauriel suspects they were after supplies, but when they left, they stabbed one of our men—and they took Bilbo. It's as if they knew who he was. Thranduil's sending some men after them," he told his uncle, "but if they make it back to Erebor with him, chances are we will never see him again."

"We need him with us," Thorin turned to Fili, determined. "My sister was adamant about him. Get us our weapons back, and we will help."

\- - - - -

Bilbo had actually been feeling quite well when he awoke that morning. So well, in fact, that he had been hoping for a hearty breakfast and to be released from Caledonia's infirmary. He had enjoyed Dr. Bombadil's jovial company during his examinations and the visits from Fili—but he was ready to put his own clothing back on and stop being fussed over, thank you very much.

When the doctor gave him the good news shortly after the bell outside stopped ringing, a pleasant assistant had appeared with his clothing. He'd had a long bath the day before and his clothes had been sent for a cleaning. They smelled marvelous. He slipped the garments on one by one. He had just finished lacing up his boots when the door to the wing crashed open and a group of tattooed men, dressed largely in denim and ratty leather, rushed into the room.

"Get the bandages and as many drugs as you can find!" one of them barked. 

It was too late to hide. He was the only person in the room.

"That must be him, the man who makes the plants grow," one of the invaders said, with a voice nearly reverent.

"I'm afraid you must have me confused with someone else," Bilbo told him. "I'm just a citizen of Caledonia. I make baskets."

"It's him," a man with a blue bandana wrapped around his head told them. "Bring him with us."

"What?!" Bilbo shot to his feet. "No! he turned to rush to the other end of the room, where another door stood, but he found it locked. Leering, two men closed in on him. Bilbo, unarmed, didn't stand a chance.

When he awoke, it was to a world moving past at alarming speed. He was on a horse, and one of his captors sat behind him, holding him upright.

 _Bloody hell!_ he thought to himself. _What has Oakenshield gotten me into?_  



	15. You Have Met the Monster and Lived to Tell About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue party is sent after Bilbo. Legolas and Tauriel share their feelings about who the traitor might be. Fili and Kili visit the hot springs.

The four-wheelers, tuned up and fueled for emergencies—and this was an emergency—leapt ahead like horses put out to pasture after a long winter of containment inside a barn.

"Sit behind me," Fili insisted to Kili, "and keep your bow at the ready." He turned to Dwalin. "You. You were a cop. You know how to operate one of these things?"

"Aye," Dwalin gave Fili the thumbs up while Kili was still working on balancing his weight in accordance with steadying his faithful bow and arrow. He watched Dwalin speed forward and cursed at a bump in the road.

\- - - - - 

The men who had kidnapped Bilbo wore gas masks to cover their faces. The light was gradually starting to filter through the trees again, which meant they had to be coming close to the edge of the woods soon. The proximity to no-man's land didn't make him feel safer.

There was a faint sound of engines behind them and one of the men cursed, but it was short-lived and turned into a cackle as soon as they rode out into the light—out into a dead world. Bilbo had never seen anything like it. The world was barren past the woods. Nothing but dry grass grew on the plains. The Desolation. He had heard of the region, and it made him shiver. A toxic lake spread out before a towering, singular hill.

\- - - - -

"Faster!" called Legolas to his men. "We must catch them before they reach the lake!"

The Orcs were losing ground in front of them, but they were scattering like dead leaves before the hunt of the wind. It was becoming impossible to make sure not one of them reached the grounds where they couldn't follow.

"Hold still," Kili cried out in frustration when one of his arrows was lost on a sudden move from the vehicle. Dust blindsided him.

Ori clung to his brother Nori's back as the redhead zoomed after the kidnappers. "Will you be able to get a shot?" the thief called back to him.

"Yeah," Ori said in a low voice in his ear. "I think so, yeah. Gods, this is fun!"

The squads managed to surround several of the Orcs. The closer they came, the more uneasy Kili felt. When he was close enough, he shivered. There was something fundamentally wrong with these people. They moved as if they were monsters cloaked in a man's skin—ill-fitting skin. Large patches on their bodies were blue or black, and in places bony ridges protruded from their backs or shoulders where there wouldn't be bone. They were nightmares, not men.

Kili loosed an arrow that sent one of them falling, and immediately clutched Fili's waist not to be dragged along in the momentum of the action. Bringing one of them down wasn't something he wanted to cheer or smile about. It was the first person he had shot. And there was only one arrow left.

Before them, several other Orcs were brought to their knees in the dry and dusty soil until the first shot fired from a gun. Dwalin fell. Kili's mouth went dry immediately. "Fili! Man down, man down!"

Ori watched in horror as Dwalin lost his grip on the handlebars and fell from his seat at the force of the impact. The four-wheeler continued on as he rolled across the ground three times, then came to a halt.

"Nori," Ori's fingers scrambled for purchase in his brother's shirt. "Go back! Go back!" he signaled for the others to keep going and was off the vehicle before for Nori fully stopped it. Ori rushed to Dwalin's side, rolling him onto his back. "Dwalin!" he cried, "talk to me!"

A painful sound arose from the pile of man. Otherwise Dwalin remained silent. From his shoulder welled blood onto the dry soil.

Kili jumped off as soon as he reached Ori. He stumbled and rolled over several times—clearly not having thought that action through—and loosed his last arrow with a shaking hand. By luck it lodged itself into the shoulder of the man at the rear of the pack. He didn't stop to watch. Kili pushed Dwalin over without any fanfare. Several years past, Thorin had come home with a wound like this. He moved Ori's hands to press against the wound, but then decided otherwise. "I'm out of arrows. Go, I know what I'm doing. Shoot the bastard down."

The lake was approaching fast. Not much time remained; as soon as they reached the lake, the Orcs would have backup, and that would make the men from the woods the hunted party. Legolas led the charge with reckless abandon, followed by Thorin, riding passenger with one of Thranduil’s soldiers, clinging to a large wooden rod that served as a lance. "Faster!" he shouted at his driver in annoyance, and swung at one of them.

Only three Orcs left.

Without the added weight on the back of his four-wheeler, Fili's vehicle shot ahead of the bunch. It pained him to do it, but he knew the fastest way to take down a rider was to disable his horse. He drew up behind the rider taking up the rear, busy trying to navigate the terrain, steer his horse and shoot at the same time. With an anguished cry that brought tears to his eyes, Fili withdrew one of his falchions and sliced across the upper back leg of his horse—a fiery chestnut mare. She let out a cry that would haunt his dreams for some time to come. But he had to do it again—twice—if he meant saving Bilbo. 

The idea of Bilbo in peril terrified Fili. In the past 24 hours, he’d grown fond of the man. He could see Bilbo now. The Orc holding him had a gun pointed snugly into the gardener's rib cage. This gave Fili the fortitude to slice the leg of another of the mounts. Only one Orc was left. And his name was Mil.

Thorin was inclined to push off his own driver and continue alone once he saw the difference in speed that it made for Fili. He also knew however that he would not be able to ride it like his nephew, and so he continued to push his driver to go faster. The last horse was at a great distance from Fili. He might not be able to make it in time. But Thorin might.

A green four-wheeler zoomed into view. Standing, Legolas raised his weapon and sent a volley towards the last man standing. His move was reckless and desperate; it cared little to nothing about Bilbo's well-being and was meant only to keep the Orc from returning to the others. The action was successful, but not in the way Legolas had intended it to be. Mil crumpled forward on his horse and Bilbo tumbled off. His fall and subsequent cry was painful enough to suggest several broken bones.

But the horse kept moving, and Mil reached safe grounds.

"Stop!" one of the men shouted. "Legolas, stop!"

He looked over his shoulder, anything but ready to leave it here.

"You can't win there!" the man cried.

"He knows!" roared Legolas.

"And it's not worth your death. Go back."

"Should we go after him?" Fili shouted to Legolas, revving his motor. "I know we can catch him!"

Legolas drew his own vehicle up alongside his brother's. "No," he shook his head sadly. "But Fili...I think we need to embrace the thought that we have a traitor among us."

"I can't believe that," Fili murmured. "Not one of our people, Legolas!" He spurred his four-wheeler in the direction of the spot where Bilbo had fallen and leapt off to help the curly haired man. "Hey..." he knelt by Bilbo's side. "We've got you now. It's all right, Bilbo."

Bilbo looked the worse for wear. He could barely stand up, shaking as a leaf, but his grateful hands clutched at Fili like a vise. "Who—what did they want?" he stammered. He had understood enough to make his way to the four-wheeler and waited for Fili to drive him back to the infirmary—because that was where he felt he needed to be.

"Not one of our people," Legolas repeated to Fili. "Think about that, Fee. Are you positive we should have let them out of their cells like Father said? I don't think this would have happened with them still locked up."

"I can hear you," muttered Bilbo. As soon as he looked behind him however, he promptly forgot about Legolas' foul words. "Dwalin! Oh goodness, Dwalin! Fee, come on, we need to get him to the hospital now!"

Fili climbed behind Bilbo on the bike, making sure Bilbo was positioned comfortably. "Legolas, this didn't happen because Uncle and the rest were freed. None of them have been east of these woods since before the bombs fell, and none of them has ever seen an Orc, let alone had time to form a relationship with one." He put an arm around Bilbo's waist to steady him. "Let's get you back to the infirmary, Bilbo. Kili and Ori seem to have Mr. Dwalin well in hand."

With a last angry look in his brother's direction, he wheeled around and headed back towards Caledonia with Bilbo in tow.

Ori meanwhile had yanked his beloved lavender cap from his head and was pressing it tightly against the wound in Dwalin's shoulder. "Kili!" he called, "in my bag...there's a skein of orange yarn. Can you pull it out? We'll use it to secure this to Dwalin while we travel."

The bloody woolen knit concerned Kili. If it dried, the fibers would get into the wound, and they'd have to reopen that wound in order to clean it. There wasn't much else he could use to replace it, and they didn't have time for a fire to cauterize it unless—

Though he hated to do it, Kili unraveled the broad leather strip wrapped around the hold of his bow. His mother had given him that strap once. It was a lucky charm of sorts. He handed it to Ori. "No wool. Take the cap off the wound and use this."

Thorin stopped behind them, breathing heavily. "How is he?" But after seeing that Dwalin would be all right, he waited not for an answer but followed up immediately with, "Get going. I don't know how long we have until that guy shows up with reinforcements."

"We're trying," Kili said back.

"Try harder."

"Well, then _help_ harder. Make room. We're lifting him onto your machine."

And so Thorin ended up being one of the last men to return of the safety of the woods. Or what was left of that safety. The borders had been breached. All of them thought the same thing, though they were unwilling to pronounce it. 

It could happen again.

Tauriel watched through the window with a grim face as Bilbo and Dwalin were tended to in the infirmary. Dr. Bombadil had made it clear that both would survive. Bilbo had a broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder from his fall. Dwalin's gunshot wound was more dire. Thankfully several members of the party stepped up to donate blood to replenish what Dwalin had lost. 

Ori sat, fingers nervously working at the unravelling edges of his bloodied cap. 

"He's going to be all right," Fili assured Ori, sitting down next to the redhead and offering him a cup of water. "They both will."

"What happened out there?" Tauriel asked Legolas. "Did you manage to kill all the raiders?"

There was a pause in which Legolas looked over the carnage. They hadn't lost anyone. At the same time, Orcs had gotten into their midst practically unseen, and Tauriel had not followed him in pursuit. He inclined his head. "They got what was coming for them. We need to discuss what we're going to do about them, or next time our people will not be so lucky. Where were you when we rode out?"

"Thranduil asked me to stay behind, in the event that there were more lying in wait to ambush the town." She narrowed her eyes at him before a calmness came over her. "Thankfully, they seem to have all left when they took Mr. Baggins. I'm glad everyone's all right," she said quietly. "We need to discuss some sort of security plan. And we need to figure out how those men got into our infirmary."

"My thoughts exactly," Legolas agreed, convinced now of Tauriel's honesty. "I plan to see if I can figure out their tracks. Hopefully they came a different way and didn't muddle up their own traces. Will you help me? Orcs in our midst, Tauriel...I'm afraid we're stuck with our guests a while longer, and I do not like it. Mr. Baggins claims none of them have crossed the woods before, but I doubt he speaks the truth. Besides, not all communication between them and Orcs would have to be in person. That Thorin fellow is wrapping dad around his finger."

"Why are you so quick to blame Thorin and his men?" Fili asked, fingers tightening on Ori's arm. "First you abduct them, then you want to blame them for sneaking Orcs into our village? I think we need to look to those most able to make something like this happen...trusted people who know the ins and outs of Caledonia."

"I do not want to blame anyone," Legolas said crisply, "but they are the biggest deviant factor here lately, and if you do not see they're most likely to be the cause of this, then you're not looking straight. Thorin was eager to leave this place this morning, wasn't he? Seemed like he was in quite a hurry. Mr. Baggins must have not been in on it, but Thorin..."

"Thorin came to Caledonia less than three days ago!" Fili exclaimed. "You were with me and saw they came here from the West. How would he have had time to organize something like this? He was locked up half the time he was here."

"Unless he knew exactly where to find us."

"That's just it, isn't it? Thorin knows of this place. He visited many times before the war. He and Thranduil have a history. But Legolas," he implored, "despite their differences, Thorin would not wish to see anything happen to him."

"How would you know?" Legolas' reasoning started bordering on slander. Tauriel looked between him and his brother, and wisely said nothing. "All I've seen is that dad grows weak around him. And when he decides he's had enough of that man, then suddenly there's an attack." Much like his father, he held his head high and turned away from Fili. "One person here who can tell me if I'm wrong. But I don't think he will."

Legolas had never been this difficult to Fili, despite how cold he was known to get when things didn't go the way he wanted them to go. Some among them called him conceited. None had any clue that his actions stemmed from defense.

"Thorin wouldn't do this," Fili said with certainty, eyes locked with Tauriel. "He wouldn't endanger Thranduil and he wouldn't endanger me. You both need to point your suspicions in another direction."

Tauriel shrugged and followed Legolas out.

Dwalin had been taken away and into a surgical room as soon as Dr. Bombadil had seen him. Bilbo had followed suit, ushered off into a room where nobody was allowed to visit. "We have this place guarded at all times," one of the nurses had said when it was clear that Bilbo did not feel all that safe anymore. "Your friends can come see you tomorrow morning."

Kili sat into one of the plastic hospital chairs, chewing the chipped nail of his thumb. "Doesn't look like we're going anytime soon," he said absently to Fili, "but I feel really bad about the way it happened."

Fili buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Legolas suspects Uncle Thorin of being the traitor. Him, or someone else of your people. I'm trying to get him to change his mind, but he's like a dog with a bone. Just..." he reached for Kili's hand and squeezed it, "...just watch your back, okay?"

If something could definitely cheer Kili up at this moment, it would be a kiss. Instead he looked down. "Of course. Do you want to see how they're holding up, Uncle and your dad? Legolas probably went to one of them and, to be honest, I am worried about Uncle doing something stupid."

"He knows better though, right?" Fili bit his lower lip nervously. "I mean, now would be a very bad time to fly off the handle. We might seem like a very accepting community, but there are some people here who would kill an outsider with very little provocation. Maybe I should go to him?"

"I'll go," Kili said bitterly. "Thorin can be difficult." He knew how to handle him when he was in one of his moods. "But I think he'd like you talking to him. You're his sister's son. Who knows," he smiled wryly, "you could calm him down."

"We'll go together," Fili concluded. "A united front, and all that. Maybe it would help him to know we've become friends, Kili."

It wouldn't actually not help at all if Thorin by chance found out they were more than brothers and friends, but Kili thought he could pull off the white lie. He didn't know where to find Thorin, but the best place to start had to be their sleeping quarters.

It was the guest chambers where, quite by chance, their uncle had indeed hidden himself. He was walking back and forth in frustration.

Kili sat down at a safe distance. He hesitated. When he was sure Thorin had seen him, he attempted, "How are you? Did you get hurt?"

"I might have wrenched my shoulder a bit, knocking that man off his horse," Thorin admitted. "I keep forgetting I'm not a kid anymore," he smiled ruefully. "The terrain out there, it's not very kind, is it?" His eyes went to Fili, then back to Kili, as if trying to figure out what the two of them were plotting against him.

"The area between here and Erebor was devastated," Fili started. "It's where my father and I were when the bombs fell. You can see now why it's a miracle that I survived."

"Mhmm," Thorin nodded. "How is Dwalin?"

"He will live," Kili jumped in. "He had a bullet to the shoulder. His left shoulder, thank God. Uncle, those men...I don't know who they are, but I'd rather not see them again."

"Apparently those are the men who now live in our former home," Thorin said sadly. "It is as I feared. Erebor has fallen. I'm beginning to think that we don't have a home worth returning to anymore, Kili."

Kili gave him a sad look. "Mum would be okay with it if we found a home somewhere else, you know. But thinking about that in honesty can wait. People already suspect we might be behind the attack. Please, let's settle this with Thranduil first, okay? Before we get thrown back into those cells."

Thorin sat up alertly. "I had nothing to do with this attack, nor with Bilbo getting taken! Can they really think that?" he wondered. He already knew the answer to that. "Of course they can. We are strangers here. "Fili," he turned to his nephew, "you've lived here most of your life. Is there a traitor among you?"

Fili sat back in his chair, giving the matter some thought. "I can think of no one who'd do this...no one who'd have a reason to," he said softly. "We're so fortunate here. Who would want to destroy the lives we live...the safety we enjoy? I don't understand. I wish I could help you, Thorin. Could it be simply that you were followed here?"

Thorin shook his head. "We weren't, Fili. We didn't encounter anyone until your men jumped us."

"Should we ask the others?" Kili asked. "I trust them of course, but Ori admits he doesn't know what his brother is up to half the time. And if we ask them when Thranduil can see us, he might believe us sooner," he pondered then scraped his throat. "It would help if maybe you don't curse him for a few days."

A smile ghosted across Thorin's face. "Do I really curse him so often?" he wondered. "I don't mean to."

Fili's eyes locked with Kili's and he smiled secretively as if to say _I told you so._

"I think you all need to keep your heads down and not raise suspicion," Fili suggested. "Talking about it would only make them point fingers at you. I know none of you were responsible for this, Thorin. Thranduil knows it too. Unfortunately, it means we have to figure out who is."

"Can we help though?" Kili wondered. He turned warm and encouraging eyes on his uncle, and for a moment he seemed like the older of the two. "We both know something is going on between you and him. Why is it you wanted to hurry to Erebor?"

"I have a past with Thranduil," Thorin admitted. "We used to be very close. Best friends, and something more. But then things changed. We grew up and we started having responsibilities. And the one time I needed him the most..." Thorin's voice trailed off to a sigh. "But he didn't completely disappoint me," he squeezed Fili's hand. "He took care of you, Fili."

Kili was incredibly grateful for that. "I used to think you would never fall in love," he admitted. "Mum used to smile at me knowingly. I thought she assumed the same." He pulled a face. "You could have told me."

"I never said we were in love," Thorin lowered his eyes for the small lie. What his nephews didn't know couldn't hurt them. "I was very fond of him, yes. He wasn't always this… difficult. "

"I'm certain you weren’t either," Fili said with a smile.

Fili had him there. Kili grinned and nudged his uncle kindly. "Still. You must like him at least a little or you wouldn't bother. Let's stay a few more days at least, okay? I need to craft some arrows anyway, and I'd rather not go out with those men on the loose. What was that stuff on their faces anyway? They were creepy."

Fili stiffened. "Burns," he explained. "Like the one your friend Bifur has on his face, but much worse. Many of the Orcs have them all over their bodies. I can't imagine how painful that must have been."

"Burns? They're nothing like the ones Ori has. On their faces, I don't know, it looked like they did it themselves. Could that be possible?"

"I can't imagine why they'd want to," Fili bit at his lip. "Unless it's some sort of initiation ritual. They do all seem to be blue and black, don't they? Maybe it's got something to do with body chemistry. Everyone's keloids seem to be a different color."

He didn't mention his own burns, which Kili had yet to discover. He rarely, if ever, showed them to anyone.

But Thorin understood. "Keloids are the marks of warriors," he told his nephews. "Proof that you have met the monster and survived to tell the tale."

"They must have met the monster a lot of times," snorted Kili, who suddenly felt self-conscious about the lack of keloids on his own body. Did that mean he wasn't a warrior? "Either way, I hope I'll never have to see them again." He turned to Fili. "Have you got someone who can work iron? I need arrows, and fast, or Ori will really convince me to take up the slingshot."

"Come with me," Fili got up, smiling at Kili. "I want to show you something."

He walked Kili down the block to a warehouse across the street from the one where Bilbo had gotten sick. At a side door, he pulled his key ring from his pocket and unlocked it.

"I don't know if I have permission to do this." He reached for Kili's hand. "I'm doing it anyway." He led his brother down a long hallway and used another key to unlock a metal door with the word _Ammo_ on it. Inside were shelves full of bullets—and, in the corner, archery supplies. Well over a dozen brand new bows leaned against the wall.

"Would you like one?" Fili asked, beaming proudly. "And a quiver of arrows?"

The pile of arms looked like a treasure trove to Kili, who crouched down and let his fingertips run over solid metal and tight bowstring. Every bow was superior to his own. "I—this is amazing," he whispered. "I feel so bad for wanting to keep my own bow. It's been my trusted tool for years. Uncle and I made it when I was younger, and mum helped me decorate it with leather. Well, I had to use the strip for the handle for Dwalin, but—oh, I'm sorry. Can I try?" He gingerly picked up one bow and reached for a quiver. They melded to the shape of his hand like they were made for him alone.

Kili grinned. "Oh, I'm going to teach you archery for sure. This one will be yours." There was no better time than now. They needed extra security, in case more of the Orcs would come. "Want to get cleaned up before the first lesson?"

"My brain can only hold so much knowledge, Kili," the blond smiled fondly. "And I know you don't want to replace your bow. It's obviously hand crafted and very important to you. Think of this one as backup," he suggested. "I wouldn't mind a bath, though," he told his brother. "Do you want to go to the springs?"

Kili immediately nodded. He was determined to get Fili to take up a bow eventually, if only because he wanted to see how his brother looked while using one. In the meantime he was content to let Fili guide him back to the springs through the maze of roads that were by now swimming before Kili's eyes.

Nobody was in the water when he undressed and slipped in. "Huh," he wondered. "I thought more people would be here."

"Not at this time of day," Fili, still completely clothed, looked around nervously, fingers poised at his waistband. "Is it warm enough for you?"

"Sure it is." Although they were alone, Kili still quickly hid his body under the troubled water. Not because he was self-conscious about his body. Because he had something to hide. "Come in?"

"Maybe I should wait," Fili stalled. "Thranduil might need me."

"Then he'd come get you. I think Legolas is with him anyway." Frowning, Kili saw Fili's point. "Do you feel like you should go?"

Fili's eyes fell to rest on the spot where Kili's neck and shoulder met, intoxicated by rose colored flesh flushed from the water's heat.

"I don't want to go," he said, quietly. "It's just that—"

His brother was at once aware. "Um, maybe I'll get a quick bath first and then you can have one? Is that better?"

"Just a second," Fili took a few steps closer. "Earlier, when you were talking with Thorin about the Orcs, and how they're burned, it seemed as if you really thought that it looked disgusting." He couldn't meet Kili's eyes. "I need to know if, well, what I'm trying to say is that _I_ have burns. Bad ones. Under my clothes."

Kili gaped. "Of course they're not ugly! I mean, sure," he blabbered, "Orcs are ugly because they do it on purpose, but it's not ugly on Ori, or Dwalin, or anyone else. You mean—show me." He smiled softly. "That means you're a true warrior, doesn't it?"

"Not really," Fili confessed. "I was just a little boy, and I..." He lifted the waist of his shirt just an inch or two of azure blue colored flesh to Kili's eyes, then covered it again, asking, "Are you sure?"

But by now Kili wanted to see more. "Take off your shirt... all right?" He splashed a bit of water at Fili playfully.

Fili groaned softly to himself. "Okay," he whispered finally. "You're going to have to see sooner or later, right?"

"Yes."

He stripped his shirt off over his head. The skin on his arms and the left half of his chest was a healthy pinkish hue and smattered with freckles in places. An azure blue keloid began under his right armpit and the whole way down to where his jeans hid the rest. It wrapped around half his body like a hand print, tendrils reaching towards the other side in spots. When he pushed down his jeans, Kili saw that the pattern continued the whole way to his knees.

"I'm blue," Fili shrugged softly, pushing his socks off with the toe of the opposite foot. "Are—are you freaked out?"

Brown eyes followed the trace of those marks until they were hidden from his view. They then moved up again but, if Kili were honest, they weren't focusing as much on the keloid as on other features of Fili's body. Fili was, in one word, beautiful. The marks only added to that, matching with the color of his eyes in a breathtaking mix. "Can I touch them?"

Fili nodded, stepping into the water. He wasn't as uncomfortable with Kili seeing his private parts as he was with the keloid. "It took a long time to heal," he told his brother, sitting down next to him, "but I was a little kid, and of course I had a hard time staying still enough for it to scar. But it did eventually. It grew with me and turned blue."

He took Kili's hand and lifted it to his chest, where the keloid begin. "Go ahead."

The flesh where Kili touched it was slightly different in texture, and more springy. The ridges of the spot were sharper than he'd seen on others. "It's like someone trapped little gems under your skin," Kili said in awe. "That sounds disgusting, doesn't it? But it's true. They're not ugly, Fee. _You're_ not ugly." He didn't stop running his fingertips over the patches, amazed at what he felt and saw.

But quite suddenly, he pulled back. "It's...I think I should take a step back now."

"You know," Fili said softly, "no one's touched me there, except the doctors who took care of me. Even Thranduil and Legolas wouldn't touch it. As if I were contagious or something," he scoffed. "It felt good, you touching me, Kili. You have...good hands." It might have been the warmth of the spring's waters, but a pink flush had risen to Fili's chest and face. "I liked it."

"Well," whispered Kili, "we could do it again. Somewhere more private. I don't have them, you know, or I'd have shown you mine."

Fili chuckled, "I still want to see yours," he said, locking eyes with Kili, "when you're ready to show me."

Kili thought about that. He couldn't find a reason why he wouldn't be ready, despite the lack of keloids on himself. He moved closer to the edge of the pool and grinned at Fili in passing. When the water reached his waist, he turned around and revealed more of his chest, his brow raised expectantly.

"You have good definition," Fili blushed. "That's what Legolas calls it. Says it comes from using a bow. Muscles across here," he ran the flat of his hand over Kili's chest, the base of his palms just brushing over Kili's nipples, "and strong upper arms. You should be very proud of your body, Kili. You look good."

"Thanks." With a hoarse voice, Kili took a step back. Fili looked equally attractive, and it looked like he could be trouble for Kili. "I'm going to take a bath and I expect you to do the same. Then how about I meet you in the tree house in an hour?"

Fili knitted his brow, a bit surprised by Kili's matter-of-fact demeanor. "All right," he agreed, reaching for a tan bar of soap. It was his favorite, as it smelled like sandalwood. Dipping it below the surface, he used both hands to work up a lather and began scrubbing, turning his back to Kili. When he felt clean enough, he sank below the water, luxuriating in the heat and wetting his hair, which he washed perfunctorily. 

Little did he see of Kili blustering about with the soap himself. Now that the temptation was removed from him, he realized just what Ori had been hinting at the night before. Kili did want to see more of him but, far more than that, he wanted to touch him. The idea of Fili returning the favor both stirred a madness in his loins and made him afraid. Whatever he allowed to happen next, it had to happen in privacy.

That was why, when Fili was done bathing, Kili had already wrapped himself up in his linen clothing and waited only until Fili had turned to see him to smile and edge back until he was out of sight.

Oh, he had no idea what his rebellious body was making him do.


	16. She's Like a Sister to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel betrays Fili's trust. Azog has demands.

Kili's skittishness worried Fili. _It must be the keloids_ he thought to himself. _He's disgusted by them after all._ But it wasn't a personality flaw that Fili could easily change by simply behaving differently. The burns were as much a part of him as his heritage, or the blue eyes that seemed to run in the family—well, except for Kili.

He dressed himself again quickly, deciding to find Thranduil and make sure Legolas and Tauriel hadn't planted any seeds of doubt about Thorin in his father's head. He found him in the waiting room of the infirmary. "Hey," Fili slid into the chair next to him. "How are the patients doing?"

"They'll live." Thranduil waved his hand about wearily. "Not so the household. Can you please try and keep Legolas and Tauriel away from me? They've been following me about for the last hour, both convinced about what to do next and both with a different plan. This is the only place it seems they don't think to find me."

Fili leaned towards Thranduil. "You don't believe Thorin or any of his men are involved in this break-in, do you?"

One of the nurses passed them by. Thranduil waited until she was past and their conversation was again private. "No, I don't." He rested his head back against the white drywall, like the situation was tedious rather than tiring. "Thorin has never been in the hospital, nor have any of his men been. I don't understand why they took Mr. Baggins, or whether they were really after him. He's...unremarkable. I have yet to see him sprout vegetables from his hands. What concerns me is the Orcs. They know how to find us. One of them escaped us. And if we don't find the person responsible for showing them the way, I fear that they'll return and they will know exactly how we plan to defend ourselves. Have you got an inkling, son?"

"I don't," Fili told him. "I can't imagine anyone here willingly being in cahoots with anyone from Erebor. Does anyone here have a history with the Orcs or Goblins, or Smaug? Or an axe to grind with you?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Thranduil replied. "I trust you, Fee, more so than I trust most others. Legolas is in charge of defense. Could I ask you to do something for me? I need someone to scout the perimeter."

Fili nodded. "I'll go, but I'd rather not go alone. Can I take someone with me?"

"Only if you are absolutely sure you trust that person," nodded Thranduil. "In fact I'd prefer it if you weren't alone. If they make it back, they'll make it back in numbers. I don't want them to find you alone. Take one of the trained guards with you."

It wasn't quite the answer that Fili was hoping for. A trained warrior. He didn't feel like dealing with Legolas or Tauriel at that moment, and most of the rest of his father's _elite_ made him uncomfortable when he was alone with one of them. But Legolas had seen him kissing Kili, and Legolas was also very suspicious of Thorin. He preferred Tauriel's company if he had to choose. But first, he needed to convince her that they had to stop by the tree house.

"Why that place?" Tauriel wrinkled her nose as she thought of the wooden hut hidden in the branches of the creaking, old elm. She had only unpleasant memories of Legolas asking her there, and sweaty half-attempts at intimacy.

"Because Kili is waiting there for me," Fili explained, strapping on his falchions. "I was going to spend time with him today. He is my brother, after all."

"He could come too," she offered. "Three people see more than two. He can be trusted, can't he?" With ease and very little concern for Kili—despite her outspoken distrust of Thorin—she made her way to the tree house. "Just get up there and don't keep me waiting for long. I never understood why you like that place so much. Legolas goes there all the time, too."

"He does? Still?" Fili asked. "I didn't realize anyone but me went there anymore. It brings back good memories, you know, of when we were kids. We used to have so much fun, didn't we?" Tauriel seemed to be preoccupied with watching a point off in the distance though. Always the soldier. "I'll be right back," he told her and climbed up the ladder, knocking gently on the tree house's trapdoor.

"Kili?"

"In here," a voice came from inside, muted by the wooden wall between them. "The hatch is open." There was little light inside the tree house. Kili hadn't lit any lights, though he had found one set of curtains and drawn them open. The light that slipped in had to go through a crosshatch of leaves first.

He was sitting on the far end, and the smile on his face was framed in a blush. Kili was waiting for Fili to close the door and come to him. "Hi," he whispered.

Fili didn't speak, but encircled Kili with his arms, laying a kiss to his lips. When Kili didn't pull away, or protest, he kissed him again.

"Kili," Fili caressed the man's face, "Thranduil asked me to go on patrol with Tauriel. I couldn't tell him no. Believe me when I tell you I'd rather stay here with you. Will you come with us? I've brought you a bow and quiver."

Kili searched Fili's eyes in response. There was disappointment there. "Like this? I've been really looking forward to seeing you here. Trust me when I say I'm in no fit mood to be patrolling with someone besides you right now."

"I'm really sorry, Kili," said Fili. And he was. He'd been looking forward to this time along with his new-found— _brother? interest? love?_ —Yes. Love. Fili's eyes softened. "I mean, I suppose you could stay behind if you wanted to, but I'd rather have you with me. Tauriel's waiting at the bottom of the ladder," he explained. "I can't really get out of this."

"She would notice it immediately," whispered Kili with a lowered voice. "I don't think you understand why I needed to see you _in private_ , Fee." His skin bordered on feverish. All Kili had been able to think about was tracing those markings again, and allowing Fili to trace the absence of bumps on his own skin. "Will you return later? I can wait."

Fili tried to hide his disappointment with a half-smile. "Yes, of course I'll be back, Kili," he assured him. "I'm just not sure how long we'll be. I really wanted this time with you, Kili. You have no idea," the blond whispered. "But the threat of invasion has to override that. We think we have a traitor in our midst. Please, just be careful in your interactions with others, all right?"

Kili kissed him once on the lips. "I'll find Ori. I trust him. Find me when you're done, okay? I only need one look at you and I'll find a way back here again without anyone noticing. Is that okay?" He looked up into Fili's eyes. "Don't take this the wrong way, but are you sure you can trust her?"

"She's like a sister to me," Fili whispered. "I—yes, of course I trust her. She practically carried me back here for treatment after I took a rock to the head. She's very loyal to Thranduil. He has been like a father to her as well. She's a very good person, Kili," he smiled, squeezing Kili's hand. "...and a mother. Max is her son, you know. She puts the security of Caledonia first always. But I really appreciate your concern. I need to go, though. Your bow and quiver are at the bottom of the ladder, if you want them." He opened the hatch. "I'll be back soon," Fili assured, his blond head sinking through the entrance.

Nodding mutely, Kili remained in the tree house until he was sure they had gone.

"So," Tauriel started—she had that tell-tale smile on her face—and turned on Fili, "mind telling me why you've got your brother holed up in the tree house waiting for you? I really don't mind him coming along, you know. Is he shy?"

"We're just trying to get to know one another, without anyone else around," Fili told her. "He hadn't even been born when my father and I left home to come here. I'd never laid eyes on him until a few days ago. It's, well, it's weird. I know he's my brother, but it's really hard to think of him that way."

"It looks like he's afraid to see me," she mused. Tauriel shrugged it off though. "Well, that means we won't have to wait for him. No offense, but I doubt he's found the time to know the woods as well as we do." With a smile did she stride forward, her arms behind her back.

The section of the woods they decided to patrol bordered on the edge from which the Orcs had come. Both of them split up to cover more ground, while making sure they remained at a hearing distance. They effectively spanned a larger area, using the walkie-talkies only when they needed to communicate without wanting to shout aloud.

Three miles from the border, Tauriel suddenly whispered for Fili to come over. She had found something.

Fili sensed a touch of fear in Tauriel's voice when she hailed him. It wasn't like her. Dread unfurled in his stomach as he made his way quickly back to where they'd split up. Fili didn't like guns, but he had brought one anyway at Thranduil's insistence. His hand moved to the butt of the weapon when he couldn't find Tauriel right away.

Eerie was the silence that surrounded him. The trees were generally filled with the song of birds and the underbrush with the rustle of mice. Bright sunlight poured in from the gap above the river.

A thud at the back of his head suddenly knocked Fili to the dirt. He saw sturdy boots in the line of his vision, next to which stood supple green leather ones that he recognized. The earth was damp beneath him, the sound of metal against metal shrill, and then the world faded to black.

"Make sure that my father knows it was me who brought him to you," Tauriel told Mil. "Not only is he Thorin Oakenshield's nephew, but Thranduil considers him a son as well. You couldn't ask for better leverage right now."

"Azog will know," Mil told her, cupping her cheek. "Maybe then he'll let you come home."

"I live for that day. You know what to do now, love. Do it."

Fili did not see or hear what surpassed next.

\- - - - - 

It was well into the evening, hours later—hours of a head start that couldn't be caught up with—when Tauriel returned to the village bruised and battered. She found her way to the hospital instead of making it to Thranduil, and collapsed as soon as she was inside. The guards were too late to catch her.

"...Fee," she breathed out, "they've got Fee."

Thorin, sitting by the bedside of a sleeping Dwalin, hurriedly sat up straight, then shot to his feet when he saw the state of Thranduil's lieutenant. "What did you say?" he asked, as he and a fellow guard helped her to her feet and onto an examination table. "Fili?"

"Get Thranduil and Legolas!" the guard at Tauriel's other elbow barked. "And get Dr. Bombadil in here at once!"

Tauriel's face bore the evidence of a beating. Her lip was split, her nose bleeding and her left eye swollen shut. "Was it Orcs?" Thorin asked her.

With difficulty did she move her head enough to imply a nod. Then she closed her eyes and allowed Dr. Bombadil, storming in, to examine her wounds. "Get Thranduil," she said with a broken voice. A painful groan escaped her as soon as Dr. Bombadil pinpointed several of the bruises. She was in incredible pain. "It's his family too."

Balin walked up beside Thorin with concern written across him. "Did I hear correctly, Thorin?" he asked. "They have Fili?"

A burning pain enveloped Thorin's stomach and unfurled inside him. He had felt the pain before—years of it—while mourning the loss of his five-year-old nephew. And all along, he had pictured Fili as that cotton-haired ball of endless energy who'd left for Caledonia on that long-ago day with Dis' husband. Now he had to reconcile that little boy with the confident man he'd met just two days ago. Could fate be so cruel as to bring Fili back to him, only to snatch him away again?

He felt his knees buckle, but Balin was at his elbow in a moment, helping him to sit on the exam table across from Tauriel. The girl looked a mess, Balin thought. She had clearly put up a good fight. Thorin wasn't speaking, his face had gone pale. Balin brought him a cup of water, which the man pushed away.

Moments later, when Thranduil and Legolas rushed into the room, Thorin let out a wordless cry and flung himself at Thranduil. "You!" he rasped. "If you'd just let us go on our way this morning, none of this would have happened." He held onto Thranduil's collar and shook him. Legolas and another guard shot forward, but Thranduil raised a hand, signally them to back away. "You should have let us go!" Thorin cried. "They would have come after _me,_ and not him!"

"And why would they have come after _you?_ " countered Thranduil. "You forget, it's Fili who is gone. He lived here for twenty years before you showed up. He's as much my son as he's your nephew! What makes you think they're after you and not me?" He pushed at Thorin to get him off him, livid. "You come in here and you claim everything is yours. Well, it's not. He could have stayed with us. Every moment you argue about that, the more unlikely it becomes that we get him back in one piece! Step aside, Thorin." He turned his eyes on Tauriel. "I need to hear what happened."

"I claim _nothing!_ " Thorin cried. "I only wanted to return to my home, Thranduil."

But Thranduil had already moved to the examination table where Tauriel lay. Her face was pale beneath the bruises—bruises which, by the looks of them, were several hours old. When he took her hand, it closed reflexively around his.

"Thranduil," she whispered, "I'm sorry. We tried to fight them off."

"How many?" Thranduil asked her. "What did they do to Fee? I'm sorry to ask you this now, but I need everything you can tell me."

"Perhaps you give us back our equipment and we'll follow them," Balin suggested. "We were headed there anyway, before all of this. I admit I am not eager to see what has become of the region under the influence of these Orcs, but we'll get nothing if we wait here."

"There were at least four," Tauriel told him, and a tear ran from the corner of the blackened eye. "We were patrolling, as you asked. They leaped from the trees. We hadn't expected it. We fought, Thranduil. We tried to fight them off. One of their punches knocked me out. When I woke, they were all gone. And so was Fee. They left only this," she fumbled with her belt and pulled off the Walkie Talkie. "I—I tried talking into it...but there was nothing. I am guessing they plan to contact you when they're ready."

"How long ago did this happen?" Legolas asked her, from where he stood next to the doctor. 

"Around eleven," she told them. "I don't know how long I was unconscious." 

"It's three thirty now!" Legolas exclaimed. "He's in Erebor by now for sure."

"We must go after him!" Thorin interjected. "You said yourselves that hostages don't survive there for long."

"They don't." Thranduil looked around the small gathering, with Dr. Bombadil fussing over bandages and not being in the way. He offered Tauriel a lukewarm medicinal drink with powdered medicine while she wasn't talking. Thranduil hated seeing her like that. She was like a daughter, the same way Fili was a son. She was a warrior. Thinking back, he never should have sent two of the three people that made up his family. He breathed out. "How do I know this hasn't been your plan all along? Can you assure me you haven't staged this, Thorin? I need your word on it."

Thorin, who had turned away to speak with Balin, now faced Thranduil with eyes filled with tears. "Fuck you," he said, voice hoarse with emotion. "You've kept him from me for twenty years and now you accuse me of his abduction?"

Balin lay a cautioning hand on Thorin's arm. "Thorin..."

"Stop it, both of you," Legolas stepped in front of his father before Thorin could enact his anger on Thranduil. "They were clearly ambushed. This morning's raid must have been some sort of distraction, so we'd let our defenses down. And we did. We played right into their game. We don't know who the traitor is—if one even exists—so we'd better figure out how we're going to get my brother back."

Just as Legolas finished his pronouncement, Kili entered the room.

He didn't understand how to interpret the scene before him at first, but Kili didn't need much to piece the puzzle together. Fili had gone out with Tauriel on patrol; Tauriel was here, wounded, and Fili was nowhere to be seen. Thorin and Thranduil were again at a standoff. And Balin, Balin simply looked like they had lost everything.

"What happened to Fili?" he whispered.

Balin walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, at which Kili felt tears spring in his eyes. They were treating him like he was already dead. "Balin," he asked again, "tell me where he is." Under his arm he held the bow Fili had placed at the bottom of the ladder before. He gripped the handle tightly. "He's not here."

"Kili," Thorin whispered, and moved to his nephew's side. "I'm sorry. He was taken while out on patrol. As you can see, Tauriel took a beating trying to defend him. We're going after him," he insisted, but his eyes were on Thranduil, not Kili. "We were just discussing the logistics."

"...But he's all right, isn't he?" Kili looked as dreadful as he felt; it was like the floor was swept out from under him. "They didn't hurt him, did they?" Before his uncle could answer, his head suddenly whipped towards Thranduil. "What are we waiting for? Everyone who wants to, come with us, but I need to hear about it in ten minutes. We can't wait longer. Can I borrow one of those machines?"

"We can't just go off half-cocked," Legolas told Kili, who was obviously distraught. "It's exactly what they want."

"Is there no way to surprise them?" Thorin wondered.

At that moment, the Walkie Talkie sputtered to life in Thranduil's hands.

Thorin nearly grabbed for it, but Thranduil turned his back on him. "Who is this?" he wanted to know. "State your name. You are well aware who you're talking to, are you not?"

"Thranduil," a measured, calm voice said from the other end of the connection. "How lovely to hear your voice. It's your old friend, Azog. It appears we both have something the other wants, doesn't it?"

"And what is that?" Thranduil refused to even acknowledge that of course he knew. Azog, that wretched creature. He did not even dare call him human anymore. Everything about him was defiled.

"Where do I begin?" the voice on the other end asked calmly. "For starters, I have your son. I guess you've figured that out by now. But I'm completely willing to return him to you—unharmed, of course—if just a few conditions are met. Oh, and do give my best regards to Thorin Oakenshield. I understand he's been your guest for a few days."

Hearing Azog's voice after all this time made Thorin feel sick to his stomach. Azog had been a notorious petty crime boss in the area surrounding Erebor for nearly two decades prior to the war. A constant thorn in Thorin's side, his oily personality and ruthless dealings were a constant source of irritation for Thorin while trying to lead his small city.

Wisely, Thorin did not speak. He cautioned Kili with a quick motion to hold his tongue as well.

Thranduil started pacing back and forth. "Get to the point, Azog." He spat the name. "How can I be sure you'll live up to your end? You've never been trustworthy. Let me talk to my son." He frowned at Kili upon witnessing the difference between Legolas—poised, but angry—and him. Kili looked like he was about to kill someone. Odd, he thought absently, how two men who considered Fili to be their brother could both be so different.

"I'm afraid he's unable to speak right now," Azog told Thranduil. "He hasn't woken up yet, you see. But he's here, this I swear to you. He's got a small bandage on his forehead—not from anything we did to him; that came with him, you understand—and he's got lovely blue markings on the right side of his chest."

The mug that Thorin has been holding suddenly shattered in his hands. He hadn't realized he'd been gripping it so hard. 

"At any rate," Azog continued, "it's my hope to open up better lines of trade and communication between our two cities."

"Trade?!" spat Kili suddenly. "You want to return him in exchange for trade?!" The thought offended him beyond measure. Trade was something done between parties who respected one another. Good trade partnerships were honest. There could be no way these men wanted to exchange Fili for something they could have gotten themselves, had they only shown honest intentions and goods to trade. That couldn't be it.

Thranduil threw a livid look at Thorin—as though Kili's words were Thorin's responsibility—which only offended Kili more. "He's lying," he hissed at Thranduil. "I don't know who he is, but trading partners don't kidnap each other's people."

"I see there's some mistrust in your camp," Azog continued. "I expected it, of course. But believe me when I tell you that we don't want to blindly take everything from you Caledonians. However, it's been brought to my attention that you have things that we need, such as medical personnel and supplies, crops and animals. Surely we can work something out. We are not people who are unwilling to work."

"But he's right," said Thranduil, who did not trust Azog either. Azog hadn't done a good deed in his life. "You don't need Fili for that. In fact, the fact that you've got him to force our hand tells me something."

Balin shifted left to right, signaling for Thranduil to stop talking to give them the time to discuss these matters. None of the people in the room were confident about this exchange that looked too harmless to be so.

"I got your attention, didn't I?" Azog asked, as the replies stopped coming. "If that is the case, then abducting...Fili, is that his name? It seems to have done the trick. We are starving, Thranduil. We haven't had anything green to eat in a year. Have you ever tasted human flesh? It's not an easy diet to get used to. We're desperate here. We understand you have a gifted agriculturalist over there who can help us bring the soil back to life. We want to learn from him. We want cattle, chickens, medical supplies. In return we will provide you with loyal soldiers to protect Caledonia from future invasions."

"Once a crime boss, always a crime boss," Balin muttered under his breath. "He's a goddamn racketeer."

Thranduil agreed on that. "We need no soldiers of yours," he said. "All the easier to steal more from us while we're asleep. We will not trade, Azog, but I will speak with my men about what we _can_ offer. Give me an hour." His eyes were on Thorin now, making sure he remained quiet until the connection was broken.

Ori had overheard the conversation and now spoke up. "Are they really having to eat one another to survive? I heard about it—rumors, of course, about settlements far away—but never spoken about so matter-of-factly."

"Once it becomes commonplace, there's no other way to speak of it, I suppose," Balin reasoned.

Ori paled noticeably. "Are they beyond helping, then? These people?"

"They have been for years." Legolas did not hide his distaste. "You need to know that while what they offer sounds tempting, there's a catch. There is always a catch with them. They've tried to find this place for years. We've always kept them out of the woods, and the edge of it has become the border of our territories. If we go out, they hunt us down, but when they come in, they're fair game to us all the same. They have never tried anything peaceful, which is to say, they probably won't have any peaceful intentions this time either."

Kili stepped forward. "They have Fili. Give them a cow and a pack of medicines and whatever else they need, and make the trade. What is there to consider?"

"The lad's got a point," Balin said ruefully. "No matter what you do, they know how to find you, and they've got Fili. Short of relocating your village, which I'm sure is the last thing you'd like to do, what choice do you have but to work with them, Thranduil?"

"Azog himself just admitted that they're starving," Thorin told them. "Perhaps they don't have the strength to withstand a proper attack by us. Maybe this is a last-ditch effort at survival."

"But if it's not, Fili is dead," Kili rounded on him at once. "Make the trade. You've got cows, and I'm sure Bilbo wouldn't mind writing them some manuals on how to work the land."

"Fee might _already_ be dead," Legolas told him. "He could be dead just yards from where Tauriel woke up and we'd not find his body until years from now."

"Isn't he just a little ray of sunshine?" Dori muttered.

"Thranduil," Thorin turned to the leader of Caledonia. "What do you think?"

"I want to see him first. If he's in good health, we trade. If he's not, we will cut them all down."

An awkward silence hung in the hospital room. Dr. Bombadil made a noise and looked at him. "Perhaps," he whispered to Thranduil, "it's better if you discuss this further outside. You're frightening the people with your talk of war."

"I'm not the one who ought to be frightening them," Thorin grunted. "Azog, scum of the Earth...I will think of no happier sight than to have his head skewered on a stick."

Ori, who was nothing if not a keen observer, watched people. He couldn't help but notice that Tauriel, despite the medication she had been given, seemed oddly alert when the time came to discuss plans for retaliation. It did seem rather convenient to Ori that she had accompanied Fili to the spot where he was taken, yet was able to return and tell the tale, herself. He made a vow to keep an eye on her for the next few days.

"Kili," he whispered to the distraught young man as the group left the room, "I think it's Tauriel."

"Tauriel? But they beat her up. Did you see the way she looked? Another few minutes..."

Kili was still shaking. They had Fili. Sure, they wanted to trade him for petty things, but he wasn't sure that it would truly bring Fili back to them. If Thranduil would allow it, Kili was thinking of plans for an ambush to make sure Fili was safe regardless of what would happen at the trade. They hadn't discussed a place and location yet, which meant that Fili was still a prisoner to the Orcs. And they hadn't said anything about the state in which they'd return him. He shivered. "Besides, what would she have to gain?"

"I don't know, Kili," Ori said, "but I have a feeling. She was far too alert when Thranduil was discussing strategy. And it would have been easy enough for her to fake a beating. I'm telling you—" but Ori stopped talking as Legolas approached. "I'm so sorry about your brother," Ori said to the blond. "I know you two must be very close."

He acknowledged the attempt with a nod and proceeded past them. A few yards ahead of them though, Legolas turned around. He turned his attention on Kili. "Come over later. We should discuss four-wheelers." Then, with a courteous but stiff and absent inclination at both, he left.

"I don't understand him," muttered Kili. "Ori, they have Fili. He could be dead right now. That scares me. If she's the one who sold him out, I don't know what I'd do. Do you think they hope to trade Fili with Bilbo? They failed to catch hold of him before in the hospital, and apparently they hope to become farmers, or at least have one to do the work for them."

Ori reached for Kili's arm to steady him, his eyes searching Kili's face. "I think Legolas is doing a really good job of keeping a stiff upper lip. It's what his father would want. But to tell the truth, I think he's barely holding his shit together. That's what I think."

It didn't take long for Thorin to catch up to the two of them. "We'll get him back, Kili," he promised. "I swear it. We're two men down, without Dwalin and Bilbo...but don't let these old men fool you. Even Balin's quite a crack shot, and he swings a staff like nobody's business."

"It's been some time since I've had to do either," Balin admitted, having overheard, "but I'm not a coward."

"Of course you're not. But these men, Fili said they were fearsome. We don't know anything about what we're dealing with. They could be waiting for us to ride out and face them where they have the advantage. And they know where we are, so if we don't, they might still come. I don't believe this is a simple trade." Kili looked defeated. "Uncle Thorin, I...I don't want to lose him. I only barely found him. He makes me think of Mum. We owe it to her to make sure he doesn't die again."

\- - - - - 

Fili came out of the darkness of unconsciousness reluctantly and with a groan. The world tilted on its axis and his head throbbed mercilessly. He lay his head back down on the hard surface beneath him and tried to remember what had happened to him. It was the cold that brought him around a second time, and he realized that, aside from his jeans, all of his clothing was gone. Opening his eyes made him nauseous, but he needed to figure out where he was.

Lying on his side, he stretched his hand out before him and felt threadbare carpeting. At least he was indoors. The rug, though old and faded, was blue. He slowly raised himself up on one elbow. The room was fairly empty, aside from what appeared to be a blanket and a bucket in the corner. That was when he noticed that he was chained by one ankle that was bolted to the floor nearby. The metal was chilly around his ankle, but a quick examination told him that it wasn't going to easily opened. Not without a key.

He wasn't quite ready to get on his feet, so he studied his prison. The walls, like the carpeting, were a lighter shade of blue, and stenciled around the tops with what appeared to be...

Fili gasped. He had been in this room before. The Winnie the Pooh characters that once had been colorful had faded. The furniture was gone, but the shape of the room with its two window niches was unmistakable. He was back in his old bedroom—a room he hadn't seen since he was five years old.

Then he remembered Tauriel. She must have been taken as well, and she had to be terrified. "Tauriel?" he whispered, testing his voice. "Tauriel?" he called, only a little louder.

Gracelessly, he got to his feet. Fili walked towards the two windows, but the length of chain only allowed him to get close enough to see the gray sky above, not the ground below. He could see the top of what appeared to be a brick house nearby. Stumbling the other direction, the chain pulled him up short a foot from the door. Fili stretched out his hand. It closed around empty air a few inches from the handle. 

He shivered and moved towards the corner where the blanket and bucket sat. The bucket was somewhat dusty inside, but mostly clean. He realized it was meant to be his toilet. The blanket was thin and scratchy, and smelled none too clean, but he was too cold to care. He wrapped it around his naked torso and sank to the floor next to the wall, trying to tuck his chilled feet up under him.

He was back in Erebor. He was fucked.


	17. Merely Rocks That Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin and Legolas mount separate rescue parties. Things come to a head in the mines of Erebor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Blue just moved into a new house! Hope this thick, meaty chapter makes up for it.

The organization of the trade was a chaos. Thranduil kept trying to bring his people to order from where they were amassed in an old amphitheater at the edge of the village. It was the place where he addressed his soldiers as a whole—not that a situation had arisen for it in years. Today the men were restless. They knew too well who they were facing and, trained or no, they were afraid. They had families now, kids. They had too much to lose.

But if they truly let the gang come into their village because they couldn't live up to a trade, then those people would most certainly be lost. Thranduil tried to reason with his men to no avail, until Legolas stepped forward and, with a booming voice, demanded silence. That shut them up.

"You _know!_ " he started. His feet paced before the small crowd like an army commander's. "The best thing we can do is kill the man who escaped from us. But by now he will have told others. It's safe to say that they are aware exactly where we are. I need to stress the following. First blood will _not_ be on our hands! But if blood is drawn, we will make sure that we draw the last. Which is why we will meet their demands. And if they break the accords—and there is a big chance that they will—then we go in."

He looked to his right. "We have a small task force assembled. They will enter, extract what is ours, and retreat. They are best suited for the job." None of the selected men came from Thorin's company. Legolas had kept them out of the selection for a reason. "The rest of you will follow my father and defend our homes." He paused, then added, "I am sorry to tell you of this now, but we have a traitor in our midst. Which is why each soldier in our task force will each be given individual orders. Those who stay behind will form groups of four people each. I trust you to make these groups yourselves and keep an eye on each other. Choose people you trust. Any suspicious activity, you let Thranduil or myself know. Am I understood?"

"I hate this," Bofur muttered to his comrades. He'd gone with Thorin, Nori, Kili and Balin to listen in on Thranduil's talk. "Every minute they hesitate is another minute they could be killing Fili and heading this way to do the same to us. Thranduil is going to lose everything."

"What if they're desperate?" Nori wondered. "What if they are starving, weak, and their population decimated? Maybe this is a last-ditch effort at survival? I think we should be scouting Erebor."

"You know the town better than anyone, Thorin," Bofur turned to their leader. "Is there a specific place they'd keep a prisoner?"

"A lot could have changed," Thorin pondered. Nori was true. In a wasteland like that, there weren't enough resources to survive. "The only place that comes to mind are the mines. The hill we used to call the Lonely Mountain, there used to be ore underneath."

"How many tunnels?"

"Too many, I'm afraid, but it's all I can think of."

Kili wanted to punch something. "We need a plan," he said, "but if we take as long as the others, Fili will be lost. Can't we think of something on the way?"

"As much as I'd prefer for us all to work together, Thranduil simply doesn't trust me—and by default the rest of you. I'm sorry for that," Thorin told them, "and I must bear the responsibility for it. However, I'd prefer to get there before he does. A number of us have been to Erebor. We know the mines and what used to pass for the town."

"I wish we could use some of those four-wheelers," Nori said wistfully.

But they could. What Kili hadn't told them earlier is that Fili had left him a surprise in the bottom of his quiver—his key ring. On it were carefully labeled keys to every resource in the city.

All were stilled into silence at the sight of several keys dangling within their reach. "But if we take them, they'll find out," Kili warned. To Thorin, he added, "I don't think Thranduil will like us much after he finds out. Two or three only, okay?"

\- - - - -

A pale moon lit the plains stretching out between the forest and the lake. Wind whipped around them. Kili clutched Ori to make sure he didn't fall off. He didn't like this. They made too much noise, and he was faced with the constant feeling that the others were already on their tails. Maybe they should have let Legolas—no, any moment they waited was another that Fili couldn't spare. Kili clutched Ori's coat tighter. "How much further?"

"It's just over the rise," Thorin told him, over the sound of the engines. "I'd hoped someday to be bringing you here under happier circumstances, Kili. But I've come to believe that we haven't got much of a home to return to. I—" but he was stunned into silence as they came over the hill and his eyes fell upon what used to be his hometown. 

It was clear that a bomb, maybe two, had fallen here. Half the town was a crumbled mess. The buildings that remained standing were nearly all charred and weather-beaten. It was not the idyllic, gated community that Thorin had lived in so long ago. 

"My house is gone," Balin said quietly, pointing. "It was over there, where that crater now stands." He rubbed his hand absently over his mouth and stared morosely at what was left. "Your side of town looks to have fared better, Thorin."

"Aye, but what of it?" Thorin looked devastated. "Not much to return to at all, is it? Thranduil spoke the truth."

"It wasn't Orcs who did this damage," Bofur informed them of the obvious. "If you all hadn't left, you'd have been killed outright, or died soon after from the radiation."

A few, dim trails of dark smoke rose from fires scattered around what was left of the town. 

"How many people could possibly be living here now?" Ori wondered. "Who would want to?"

Dori whimpered. "I have a feeling we're about to find out."

\- - - - - 

More time passed before the door to his prison was unlocked and opened. Through it walked a pale man, well over six feet tall. He looked as if he might at one time have been quite muscular and fearsome. He certainly dressed the part. But his clothing, as well as his pallor, was faded.

Azog.

The man crouched before Fili like he was a shackled, dangerous animal, and Azog not afraid of him. His eyes had a reddish glow to them, his face covered in serrated scar tissue. Azog was born an albino and had embraced his nature in a deathly identity. "Fili, son of Vili," he said. "What a catch you are. Your Uncle, your brother and a foster father, two of which are people I'd rather see dead. That must make you feel special." In one corner of the room scurried a couple of mice. "They will give me all I need, and I will trample them as soon as we don't need them anymore. You understand why I'm telling you this."

Azog's breath smelled as if he hadn't touched a toothbrush in a decade or more. It took all Fili had in him not to turn his face away. 

"I'm guessing," he replied, trying to keep his voice from wavering, "it's because you plan to kill me too. To be honest, I'm surprised you haven't already."

"Oh, but we need your people's food first if we're to fatten you up like a pig," Azog grinned, his foul stench spreading in the room for hours to come. "They will have no idea until it's too late, Durin. But rest assured. If I play my cards right, you might be accompanied in death by your Uncle soon after."

Fili was sickened by what Azog's words implied. He had heard the rumors about cannibalism of late in Erebor, especially of children. "It's true, then?" he felt compelled to ask. "You've resorted to eating human flesh?"

"That happened years ago," Azog told him, his expression unreadable. "We ran out of food a long, long time ago, you privileged little brat. You have no idea how true hunger feels, do you?"

"I was trapped once, for six days after the war," Fili told him. "I had no food then, but I had been injured. The pain was worse than the hunger."

"There is nothing worse than watching your child starve and being unable to feed her," Azog told him, simply. "You'd cut off a piece of yourself, you love her so much. Finally, we made the decision that we had to begin eating one another in order to survive. It wasn't an easy decision, you understand. We started with the old, frail—the mentally unstable. But eventually we ran out of those. Then, we realized it was time to start on the children."

Fili must have blanched considerably, for Azog said, "As a teacher of children, this must cut you to the core. As it did us, initially. But none of us were directly involved in the killing. None of us with children, anyway. We had two men, butchers—childless butchers—who put them down mercifully. The meat was returned to us dressed. We never knew, you see, which child we were eating. But that never made it easier. We started with the youngest and worked up. Eventually, when the age of the youngest was raised to seven, I was expected to give up my own little girl. But I couldn't. I paid the butchers with what provisions I could spare and I sent her away. I sent her to Caledonia, where she was taken in—much like you—and has thrived to this day."

 _She?_ Fili's head spun. But then, it all became clear. "Your daughter is Tauriel! She is the traitor in our midst!"

Azog smiled bitterly. "You consider her a sister, don't you? Imagine what it must do to a father, to know that the only chance she's got is with the man he despises above anything else. Thranduil took what little we had. The flocks died because the ground turned arid, but he refused them to graze in his woods. They are not even his woods. He doesn't need all of the land, though he claims it. I plan to take all of it. If I could, I'd even change our places. Let them try and survive on this wasted soil, while we thrive in the woods."

"I do think of her as a sister." Fili blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop it. His head hurt. He felt sick and he couldn't help thinking of how much suffering Tauriel had seen in her young life, only to be separated from her family and forced to act as a spy. "Surely there is a solution to be found here, Azog. Obviously, Thranduil and his people are not without compassion. They took Tauriel in without pause. If you had laid down your weapons and come to us for help, instead of your raids and attacks, I am certain something could have been worked out. Even now it's still possible, if you are willing to be diplomatic instead of violent. Return to Caledonia with me. Tell them about Tauriel. Tell them about how you are living. You must have some artisans and workers among you who would be of use to us. Even you must have a skill."

But enraged, Azog stood up. "Plead for help?! Do you think we have not done so before? Thranduil's woods are Thranduil's woods, and nobody sets a step in them unless he allows it. You of all people should know! Thranduil refused help to all but his own, and that includes your family. Don't ask me why they are on speaking terms again. That rat deserves no kindness!"

Wincing at the outburst, Fili took a deep breath and conceded. "You're right about Thranduil. He did turn away the people of Erebor when they asked for help. If I'd been allowed to stay back then, I wouldn't have these burns. I was in a building not far from Erebor when the bombs fell. But he's changed. _Society_ has changed. There are so few people left on this earth. We have to work together if we want the human race to continue! I can help negotiate. Thranduil will listen to me. Are you willing to try?"

Azog circled Fili. His decay matched that of the room and offered Fili a view of how things could have been for him. "Of course I have considered that," the pale man spoke. "I knew you'd ask it. But Tauriel will be in danger if you tell anyone, and you can run away, which leaves us without a hostage. You may go back to Thranduil on my behalf. If you do, you will be wearing an explosive secured around your neck. Say the wrong thing, try to disable it, and we'll blow your head off clean as a warning to others. The choice is yours. Do you still want to?"

Fili didn't want to carry explosives back into Caledonia, no matter what the circumstances. He didn't want to place anyone else at risk.

"I won't run away, and I won't tell anyone about Tauriel," he promised him. "You did what any good father would do. She's very lucky you weren't like the others here who allowed such a horrible thing to happen to their kids."

To be quite honest, Fili simply couldn't understand how anyone would allow _that._ But he hadn't been where these people had been. "Will you show me the town? Show me how you live, so I can tell Thranduil?" he asked. "You can tie my hands, hold a gun to my head...I won't run away. I just want to see. Then I will go back to Caledonia and speak on your behalf."

Azog thought about. He grunted. "It is dark now. You will not see much. I'll take you."

What poor light was left was taken from them as Azog closed the tattered curtains. In the dark came the sound of chains, and quite abruptly a cool metal pressed against Fili's neck, surrounding it and clicking shut. After that was done, the rest of his shackles came off and he was free to walk once again.

"Thorin is going to want you to tell him the state of his old house," spoke Azog behind Fili. "So don't miss any details."

Dizzy and disoriented, and with Azog's breath hot and fetid at his ear, Fili was herded out the door and into a familiar hallway.

But the familiarity ended only in the shape of the place. Thorin's former home had been ransacked. Little furniture remained in it. What did spilled the contents of its cushions out onto the floor. It smelled of urine, feces and decay; here was nothing homey or welcoming about it. It would break Thorin's heart to see it.

Fili's thoughts turned then to Kili, who had thought to honor his mother by coming here. How saddened Dis would have been to be here and see this destruction. How lucky she was not to have to see what had become of the home she loved. 

Being pushed out into the night was a relief as a breeze sprang up to blow away the foul odors. Fili's bare feet picked their way carefully down the once well-cultivated lawn, now overgrown with all sorts of inedible vegetation. Looking back, he shivered, pulling the thin blanket around his shoulders, and saw that the house had fallen into a state of disrepair on the outside as well, and that one side of the home bore a dark burn—much like his own body had after the bombs fell.

Looking beyond the front yard, he could see a place, not too far in the distance, where the buildings had been demolished.

 _I want to go home,_ he thought sadly, as rocks bit painfully into the soles of his feet. 

A group of four men watched him while he stumbled. They spoke between themselves in a raspy language that Fili couldn't distinguish, because the words sounded foreign to him. This was no longer his home.

Azog walked ahead of him, unafraid of his escape. There was nowhere to go anyway; and if he managed to find a place, the man had only trigger the device on his belt to send Fili to the death he had escaped before. He didn't stop when one of the men came up to Fili to feel his hair and nudge his skin, testing the meat. The laughter that escaped him was diabolical.

"Langun," hissed Azog. "Tell Smaug. I am on my way with him."

Fili shivered under Langun's oily touch, but didn't pull away. He didn't want to draw attention to himself any further.

 _Smaug?_ Smaug was here? There had been rumors that Smaug had died some time ago, but clearly they weren't true.

Fili had read a book about the many atrocities Smaug and his followers had committed over the years before the war: small-time killings and disappearances, yes, but he was known for entering businesses and schools and opening fire, killing scores of people. He had no problem seeing children die either. 

Fili's mind flew to the loving, sweet kids in his classroom back in Caledonia. This had to end before any harm came to them.

"Do you have any plumbing?" he asked Azog, "Sanitation?"

"None." Azog walked on, expecting Fili to follow. They made for the mines. "We use the lake, most of the time. No fish live in it anymore. We fished them out to feed on before we started using it as waste. Tell me, Durin. How has life been with Thranduil? How has Tauriel been? I have not seen my daughter in years."

"She's healthy, and strong," Fili told him. "Tall and..." he was going to say _loyal,_ but the word stuck in his throat. "She is very beautiful. How long since you saw her last?"

He wondered, did Azog know he had a grandchild?

"Three winters past," Azog replied solemnly. "She's a hunter, isn't she? I used to take her out for the hunt when she was young. She took a liking to it at once. Not the other kids, who would be afraid of a dead buck, but her...she was born for it. She is about your age. You must have spent a lot of time together."

"We did...lots of time. But she spent even more time with my brother Legolas. They're inseparable. Like twins. I think he might even be in love with her," Fili said. What he didn't tell Azog is that no one really knew if Legolas was the father of Tauriel's four year old son, Max. 

"She has a son," Fili told him finally. 

But Azog by then mostly pieced things together. He stopped in his tracks. "Legolas'?" he asked. "He's Thranduil's son." He wasn't sure if the happiness he felt at being a grandfather was still justified in a world where children would be eaten. For once he was glad that her safety in Thranduil's house granted his grandson that same immunity. He was a _grandfather_. That was something he had never expected. Tauriel wasn't the type to be a mother. It awoke a warmth in his chest, a need to protect.

If they continued with this raid that was designed to topple Thranduil's throne and reinstate Smaug and their people on the fertile soil of the woods, that grandson would die.

Did Tauriel know that?

"What is his name?" Azog could only ask.

"Max," Fili told him, wincing as a sharp stone—or what might have been glass—bit into the tender sole of his foot. "Maximillian. Sometimes she just calls him Mil. He has dark hair and blue eyes. He's four years old. He's very smart. He can already read."

"Is he healthy?" Azog wanted to know. He recognized the name very well, and it calmed his heart. Mil was the name of one of them. He would have to treat the man better, now that he knew this. "I will need to take you to Smaug, and he will make sure you play your part, but is there a way you could bring him to me? My grandson... I will do what I can to help you, if you bring him to me."

"I wouldn't bring _any_ child here, even your grandson. This is no place for a kid to be," Fili informed him of the obvious. "If it were, I'm sure Tauriel would have brought him to see you before now. But we can make arrangements for you all to be together... You just have to demonstrate that you want peace."

"Smaug does not want peace. I have little against Thorin, but his presence changes things. Smaug seeks his destruction. Come, the sooner we get this over with, the better."

They entered one of the corridors into the mine. Oil lamps on their left lit their path, illuminating the remains—or starts—of a rudimentary civilization. The hints of large columns lined the path. From within came a constant sound of pickaxe on stone. Someone was shaping the mountain.

Past an antechamber did they move into a grand hall, the likes of which Fili had not seen before. The floors were lined with gold, stone statues embedded with precious stone. The hall was like one belonging to a king, but worthless in value in this world that the war had left behind.

On a throne up high sat a man in a red mantle and with red eyes, waiting for them.

The hall was the most opulent and most terrifying thing that Fili had ever seen. The gems dazzled his eyes in the glow of a host of torches. 

As he drew closer he realized that Smaug's eyes were not really red, but that the man was wearing a pair of cosmetic contact lenses. Still, he looked like the devil himself, and Fili wished he weren't alone.

Smaug's terrible eyes were on him as soon Azog brought the blond stranger into his presence. Smaug bade everyone but Azog to leave without wasting a word and waited for Fili to be brought before him. At the sight of the collar, Smaug smiled. "Welcome to the heart of Erebor, boy. Tell me, do you know of me?"

It was cold there underground and Fili shivered, drawing the blanket tighter around him. Nothing but a croak came out the first time he tried so speak. He cleared his throat and began again. "Yes," he said. "I have read of you. Things you've done—mostly criminal. People had thought maybe you'd died during the war," he told the red-eyed man.

"Oh, no." The man had a sense of flair. "I've been asleep for a long time, I admit. They woke me from cryostasis three years ago, into this pathetic excuse of a world. They might as well have let me sleep a few hundred years more. Mankind is on the brink of collapse. So, you are the boy of Thorin's sister." 

He waved at Azog, who knew what to do and brought Fili to his knees with a single, rough shove. On Smaug's command, Fili's face was pushed into the dirt. "Maggot. Your family will face extinction well before anyone else does. But the mighty Thorin will fall before you do. And you will help me."

Fili gave a gasp of pain as Azog pushed hard on the lump on the back of his head, shoving his face against the cold earth. "You may as well kill me now, then," Fili said defiantly. "I won't help you hurt my family—or anyone in Caledonia."

Smaug's laugh at Fili's naivety echoed through the high hall. "Sure you will. Who would you rather see dead, boy? Your uncle or your brother? If I kill the other boy, I will hurt Thorin to the core. I'd only need a push to get him over the edge. He will die either way. The choice how that happens is yours."

"You're crazy if you think I'm going to raise a hand to either of my brothers," Fili wriggled under Azog's heavy hand. "If you were smart, you'd be trying to negotiate peace while you still stand of chance. There will be no mercy for either of you. Thranduil will see to that."

"Thranduil will be powerless once we decide to charge. My price isn't high for the safety of his people. Thorin's head and the woods, that is all I ask. But perhaps you need a night to reconsider." A melody laced through his words like they were words of intellect. Smaug gestured at Azog, who pulled Fili up to his feet. "Feed him nightshade."

Fili let out an anguished cry as he was hauled upright. Nightshade was a word he was quite familiar with. Back in the woods, they had to be careful where they let the livestock graze. Eating just a few bites could kill a pig in less than a few hours. Surely Smaug didn't mean to poison him!

But Azog said not another word as he hauled him outside, dragged him back to the children's bedroom and hooked him up to the chain. "Diluted," he whispered. "Do not let anyone find out, least of all Smaug. He will expect you to be hallucinating and out of it for at least a day. Play along."

By now, Fili's feet were hurting him quite badly. He'd lost track of how many sharp rocks and who knew what else had dug into the soles of his feet. They throbbed in time with his heartbeat and the pain was all he was able to focus on as Azog manhandled him back into his former home.

As they first entered through the front door, Fili thought he smelled just a small, familiar whiff of what the home must have smelled like when he was little. Surely it had to be just his imagination playing tricks on him though, for it was quickly replaced with the mold and decay he'd smelled earlier.

Azog, after locking him down, returned with a cracked mug half filled with a brackish liquid. "Drink it," he insisted. "It's not going to kill you. Not yet. Not until you've gotten me to my daughter and grandson."

The concoction tasted horrible, but Fili was so thirsty from his ordeal that he didn't fight with the big man. How could he possibly win?

After Azog left, the room returned to pitch black. Fili couldn't stop shivering. He tried to focus on Kili and on the kids at the school. He had always wanted a child himself, but he'd never felt anything resembling love for a woman, so the opportunity hadn't come to be. He curled in on himself, trying hard to conserve heat. He touched one of his aching feet tentatively with a finger and it came away covered with slimy liquid—blood, no doubt. 

He wished he were back in Caledonia. Even a fight with Legolas or having to work the 3 a.m. shift in the cafeteria was better than this.

"I'm sorry, Thorin," he whispered into the darkness. Then his stomach cramped up and the world began spinning. That was all he remembered.

\- - - - -

"Where are we g—"

"Quiet."

Balin shut up without a fight, but Thorin looked murderous when Ori bade them all to be silent. They had made it to the lake and beyond it, but they were reduced to proceeding on foot now, and several times someone had slipped, causing a noise that luckily had not been heard. From the hill they looked down on a valley littered with the ruins of a village. At the sight, Thorin sank back.

"Dale," he whispered.

"I thought it was called Erebor?" Kili whispered between his teeth, though he knew now was not the time.

"The mines are Erebor. They were better known than Dale in the area, so everyone called it Erebor. But that's Dale. Our house still stands. Behind it are the mines."

"How do we get there?" asked Ori.

"Through the village."

"That's not an option. How else?"

"We circle it. There is a back entrance."

"We should have talked about this when we were still in the woods," Kili muttered. He stilled when he thought two guards were looking their way. They were cloaked in darkness and there was no way the men could have seen them, especially not on a distance like that, but nobody wanted to run the risk. "Come on. Fi—"

A cry tore from one of the houses, nailing all of them to the floor.

"What the fuck was that?" Ori muttered, clinging to Kili's arm. The cry sounded like someone in terrible pain.

"Grief," Bombur concluded. "Someone's died."

"That's awful," Ori whispered.

"Aye," Thorin agreed. "Come, let's head around the outskirts of the town."

But Kili shook his head. He couldn't pinpoint what was keeping him exactly, just that it did not seem right to go. "Thorin?" He pointed at the houses. "What if Fili's not in Erebor? There are more people in there than there are around the mines." The scream still unsettled him. "Look."

"This place creeps me right the fuck out," Nori told them. "It's like one of those old zombie apocalypse movies."

"This time of night, it would seem reasonable that no one's working in the mine," Thorin told them. "I'd also hope most of the people are asleep. But you can rest assured they are waiting for us."

"I already hate it here," Bofur sighed.

Kili thought wryly that the company had been drafted for this destination, months ago. It was supposed to have been paradise, with Bilbo tending the soil and Thorin most likely leading renovations. 

It was a hell-hole though. Thorin was right. It was far too dark for everyone to be in the mines. That made inspection of the mines a lot safer than heading into the village—which looked downright suicidal—and made Fili being there more likely. Prisoners could create enough ruckus to ruin a good night's rest. It was doubtful that they kept him where they slept.

"Come on," he muttered, turning his back on the village, "I want to be back before they know it."

Ori went ahead. He proved to be an excellent scout and moved in the shadows like they were a second nature to him. As such, he led the way to the other entrance into the mines, guided curtly by Thorin's monosyllabic directions. Their path led them farther from the village, and around the large hill. It took them more than half an hour to reach the iron doors.

They were jammed shut.

"Bloody hell!" Bofur spat, raising his axe to pound on it.

"Hold!" Balin hissed, grabbing for Bofur's arm. "There's a key!"

Thorin meanwhile had reached inside his shirt and pulled out a necklace—a heavy old-style key on a leather thong. He raised it to his lips and kissed it. "Only a few of us had these," he told them. "Most are no longer alive." He slipped the key into the lock and uttered a small prayer before turning it. The tumbler turned over with a _thunk_ sound and the door swung outwards. 

"In we go, then," Balin smiled. "Just like that."

The hallway they entered was black as tar. The moon hung absent in the sky, and there was no other light to guide them. They did not have matches and they hadn't brought a light, afraid to be asking Thranduil or anyone else. Nobody knew they were here—though by now someone might have discovered that they weren't in the village, either—and they held hands to make sure nobody got lost.

"Where are we going?" whispered Ori, following directly after Balin and Thorin. "Where do you think we can find him? We're higher than the entrance here."

"We descend," returned Balin. "This place is mazed with corridors, but there are only a few places fit for keeping someone. We go into the main hall."

"What if they changed the plan?"

"Then, lad," sighed Balin, "we are doomed. You've always needed a map to navigate Erebor. I've got that map in my head, but if they changed it..."

\- - - - -

Spiders were crawling all over him. Spiders of all shapes and sizes. And they were biting his feet. Fili thrashed, shoving off the thin blanket.

He writhed in horror and his feet throbbed in agony. Then, from the darkness, came his father, Vili. He was burned crispy and almost beyond recognition. 

_Come, Fili,_ he communicated without moving his mouth, _come have a bite! We all have to do it eventually, don't we?_ And he brought his own arm to his mouth and tore off a piece of it with his brilliantly white teeth.

Fili didn't even realize he was screaming until he woke up with a full-body jerk and the sound echoed in the room.

There were no spiders. There was no Vili. There was nothing. Only the darkness, lit by slivers of moonlight on the floor. He felt feverish and ached from the hard floor and his constant shivering.

"Help me," he whispered, voice hoarse from screaming, and curled back up in the blanket. "Help me."

\- - - - -

A faint murmur echoed through the halls. Balin stopped to look in the direction of the sound, but none other came. It must have been the wind. He reached for Thorin's sleeve and stilled his steps. "We need to go the other way. This route, it is like I recall it, but it's not where the wind comes from. I think they changed the plan."

"Are you certain?"

Balin pursed his lips in doubt. He wasn't certain, he only knew that what was once writ in stone could have been rewritten in two decades' time. "Fifty percent, I'm afraid."

Thorin groaned. This was not going how it should be. It was bad enough that they hadn't yet found Fili, but none of them had a clue what they were doing. At this rate they were only endangering themselves. "We go that way. I trust your instincts, friend. Listen, we can't get separated. If we don't find Fili in three hours, we get out before it'll be light and let the others try."

"Three hours?" gaped Kili while others nodded and they started walking in the new direction. "You're setting a timer on family, Uncle."

"We wouldn't want to be here when workers loyal to Azog show up with pickaxes," Gloin informed him. "And that would be around first light, I'd wager."

"Exactly." Thorin put a steadying hand on Kili's shoulder. "You're in Erebor now, Kili. These aren't the circumstances I'd hope you'd see it under. But hopefully, at the end of this passage, you'll find reason to believe this was once a glorious place."

"They're mines," Kili said mutely, like there was no way he'd see the beauty of this place. Perhaps to one day get lost in, if they weren't infested with the scum of the earth.

They ascended a staircase with no end. While nobody said it, they all thought the same; this corridor wasn't heading down to the entrance. Balin too was beginning to regret having mentioned it, when at last a sharp turn had them walking down to ground level. It took them the larger part of half an hour before they ran into the first oil lamp. All of them stopped and let go of each other. Kili took out the bow that Fili had given him, and asked Thorin without speaking if he could go on ahead. Thorin nodded. 

The ground was wet and muddy, the walls gradually straighter. With his arrow at the ready, Kili paid attention to every sound. He held up his hand with his fingers spread when a voice drifted into range.

"No matter what Azog says, I have a feeling we're all going to die tomorrow." Mil's voice was far from the frightening, brusque tones they'd expected to hear.

"If you were smart, you'd go, get Tauriel and your son, and move on," another voice, female, responded. "I'll go with you."

"Sis, it's suicide," Mil told her, voice beginning to peter out as they headed off down a corridor. "Even if we made it across the moors, there's still—"

After that, they could hear no more.

Ori's eyes found Kili. _I told you,_ they communicated.

Kili nodded in response with a grave nod. He looked at Thorin for instructions. These people didn't want to fight, and he was ready to follow them and see if they could work out a deal for clemency. Tauriel had a _son_ with the Orc.

He bit his lip. _What do we do?_

Thorin raised his hand to signal silence, making sure the pair had absolutely gone past them.

"Well, this is an interesting development, isn't it?" he asked, finally.

"I guess now we know who betrayed Bilbo and Fili into their hands," Balin said sadly. "She seemed like such a nice girl."

Ori leaned against a wall, disappointed, but not surprised. "Do we continue?"

For a moment nobody responded. Every one of the small group contemplated the question, until Thorin inclined his head. "We find Fili and get out. It'll take hours to inform Thranduil. We can only hope Tauriel doesn't compromise the other group, but in case that she does, we need to make sure we get to Fili first."

"Two and a half hours," said Kili. He repositioned the bow and arrow in front of him. "Let's go."

\- - - - -

The great hall that the company exited onto, another half hour on the clock later, had them in awe from the moment they laid eyes on the riches that poured over onto the path. Kili was hyperaware of any movement, as was Ori by his side, but Thorin looked upon it all slack-jawed.

Balin held him back by his sleeve. "I don't remember this place. I don't like it, Thorin."

"This was not part of Erebor," Thorin whispered. "Someone's been building a throne room." His eyes fell on the empty throne at the end of the hall.

The gold dazzled their eyes and reawakened passions many of them had forgotten they had.

"So these are valuable then, these statues and gems?" Ori wondered.

"They would have once been priceless," Balin told him. "But I imagine most of us now would trade all of them for a safe place to live, and our lost loved ones back."

"Not everyone," Thorin said darkly. "There are those blinded by a love for gold. I can think of one in particular. But he was rumored killed when the bombs fell."

The name bounced off the stone arcades like a whisper in a mausoleum, and Ori shuddered.

"Smaug."

"We shouldn't be here."

"No, you shouldn't."

Heads whipped around to the foreign voice.

"Father told you to wait for us!" Legolas strode into the corridor angrily. "Are you trying to get killed, or are you simply crazy? These people are bloodthirsty!"

Tauriel followed close behind, her face an unreadable mask behind the bruises.

"I see you haven't found my brother yet," Legolas said sadly.

All stood nailed to the floor. When they recovered, Kili raised his bow and hissed, "We're here for the same reason, and some of us know more of this place than any of you. I see you haven't figured out the identity of the mole yet."

"Kili," Ori tried.

The man did not relent.

"You look like you should have stayed back in that medical bay, young lady," Balin said to Tauriel.

Tauriel's reply was simple and terse. "I need to make sure Fee's okay."

"All this gold...all these gems." Legolas bit his lip. "No wonder you wanted your town back." 

"Gold is worth nothing now," Thorin reminded him. "They are merely rocks that shine."

It was obvious however that someone disagreed. Bofur was the first one to bring to everyone's attention that they were being too visible. A guard patrol would be able to spot them without trying. Reluctantly they split into separate groups on both sides of the narrow corridor. Kili didn't ease the drawn bowstring.

"We overheard them talking," he said. "I don't w—"

A hand covered his mouth and ended his sentence prematurely. Balin scraped his throat as a warning. 

"Where is your father?" Thorin demanded of Legolas.

"He's coming, with reinforcements," Legolas answered him icily. "We were sent to scout."

"What was that you were saying?" Tauriel asked Kili. "Tell us."

Balin could not stop him a second time. Kili scowled. "I don't trust you. I won't go with you."

Legolas stepped up to Kili, dwarfing him by several inches. He scowled, "You'd better be very careful what comes out of your mouth next, outlander."

"It's all right, Legolas." Tauriel put a hand on his arm. "I let Fili get caught. Why should he trust me? I don't even trust myself right now. Maybe I should have stayed behind."

"Nonsense," Legolas shrugged. "You're doing the right thing."

"I think splitting up is a bad idea, for what it's worth," Bofur said, awkwardly attempting to break the tension.

"No, it's not," Kili hissed. "I'd rather continue on my own than run the risk of being handed over to them by her."

Apparently however, he was the only one who harbored animosity towards her. The others seemed afraid they'd be vulnerable without her. Kili didn't understand them. "Why doesn't anyone think the same? You all heard it, didn't you?"

"Kili," Ori smiled. "It's obvious you're upset. And it's perfectly logical to want to blame Tauriel. After all, she was with him when he was taken." _Chill the fuck out!_ was the message on Ori's face when Tauriel looked away. _Just go along with us._ "But separating is a bad idea. I won't let you go alone. You should know that."

"Of course not," Thorin agreed. "I won't lose another nephew. We stick together. Let's go." And he set off in the direction they had been traveling.

Kili found that nobody lingered around him when they started moving. It was a bad idea, and on top of that he could already see the beginnings of the struggle that would be Thorin and Legolas vying for control over the new group. He did not ease his hold on his bow as he whispered to Ori, "She's leading us straight into a trap. By the time Thranduil comes here, it'll be too late. I need to save Fili, Ori. Will you help me?"

"Splitting up is a really bad idea, Kili," Ori whispered as the rest of the group moved away down the corridor. "But I'm not going to leave you by yourself." As the others moved out of sight and out of hearing range, Ori asked, "Well? What's your plan? I hope it involves—" Ori's sentence broke off with a yelp of pain, then silence.

"Get the other one!" a voice hissed.

Kili forced his bow and arrow between him and the source of the sound. A frightening nausea hit him when he saw Ori on the floor with a silhouette perched over him—strong and agile Ori, defenseless. Kili wasn't so stubborn that he had a misplaced sense of invincibility, and he called out for the rest of the group. They could not have gotten far.

The arrow thrust itself with too little force against the palm of the gauntleted man to do damage. Kili could only thrash around with his bow to do damage in this range, and he did. He used the end to wedge underneath the edges of the iron armor and propelled his weight forward to force his assailant against the wall. Iron clattered against rock and pitched an echo that grew in strength the farther it traveled.

But he hadn't seen the second Orc. Kili was pulled off the battered soldier with a cry. He kicked at anything within his reach as soon as he felt his weight lifted off the floor, and managed to hit the unseen assailant with a swipe of his bow. It was a scene of chaos and noise, where his survival had everything to do with luck and dirty tactics and close to nothing with skill.

The syringe that stuck into the side of his neck several seconds later was Kili's downfall.

"These two are feisty," said Randi, tossing aside the syringe. She prodded Kili with her boot to make sure he was really unconscious. 

"Tauriel warned us," Mil said, with little satisfaction. ""It's a good thing she brought us these drugs from Caledonia. I told you how relentlessly they chased us down this morning. The prisoner in Azog's house crippled two of our horses. The only good thing that came out of it is the meat." He rubbed his aching injured shoulder.

Randi grunted in confirmation and began dragging Kili towards a mine cart that sat nearby. "This one's got some nice meat on his bones."

"They aren't for eating," Mil told her. "Not yet, at least. They're hostages."

"They're so young," Randi lamented as she lifted Kili, with her brother's help, into the cart. They tossed Ori in on top of him. "What about the spare? What do we do with him?"

"We take them both to Azog," Mil told her. "He can decide what to do. I'm keeping my hands clean and my head down until this blows over."

"Good idea." Randi began pushing the mine cart away down the track.


	18. I Can't Lose Them Both

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape from Erebor is not without complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, all. Blue's moving into a new house and I've been super busy at work. We have plenty written. We haven't given up on this story. Thanks for your patience. -- Thorny

"Did you hear something?" Nori held up his hand for silence. And silence was what greeted them.

"Blast it all!" Thorin muttered at length.

"What is it?" Balin wondered. But it didn't take them long to figure it out. 

Ori and Kili had left the group and wandered off on their own.

"I won't lose him," Thorin whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "I can't lose them both!"

They tracked back through the tunnels as swiftly as they could, until they reached the spot where Kili had spoken out about not trusting Tauriel. Kili and Ori were no longer there. 

Tracks led away from the main path. Legolas noticed them first, and he headed in the direction without informing anyone other than a nudge of his hand to follow. Some of them picked up on it, and soon everyone was behind him.

He stopped at a small alcove. "There are signs of a struggle here." He looked up at Thorin, troubled. "I don't know what happened, but you are aware that this doesn't look good, right? First he accuses someone I am absolutely sure is to be trusted, and then he disappears in the den of the enemy. Shall we follow? Understand, Thorin, that your choice decides the fate of your family."

Bofur saw something shiny out of the corner of his eye, half buried in the dirt. He leaned over and picked up one of Ori's knitting needles. He held it up before the others. "I don't think Red would have parted with this too easily, do you?"

"Give that to me!" Dismayed, Nori snatched the item from Bofur. "No, he would not! And stop accusing him. Is it even sure that in the time we were apart, they were not taken?"

"Of course it's possible," Thorin told them. "Anything's possible, isn't it?" He ended this sentence with his gaze on Tauriel. "What do you think we should do?" he asked her.

She knew she was treading on dangerous grounds, yet she kept calm and replied, "Go after Fili. I don't fully believe a hundred percent that Kili and his friend were taken. They made it very clear they wanted to branch off. The knitting needle could have been dropped by accident. But what we do know is that they have Fili, and if we don't make it there fast, we'll be trapped under this hill for at least a whole day."

Legolas squinted his eyes at Thorin, suspecting that the man was starting to sport ideas like his nephew's. "I say we continue to search for Fili. Or do you want to leave too? I don't mind. If you continue to slow us down like this, we're all doomed anyway. But if you want to leave, do it now. We are running out of time."

"Slowing _you_ down?" Bombur grunted. "The rest of your men are still probably arguing about what to wear and haven't even left camp yet."

"That's not at all productive, brother," Bofur whispered.

"I'm sorry, Tauriel," Thorin stepped ahead of the bickering men, "but you said _if we don't get there fast._ Make it _where_ fast? If you have any ideas about where Fili might be being held, don't hold back."

"The main hall," she said. "We captured one of the men a few years back, one of the miners. We still have no idea how he got into the forest, but he gave us the lay of the land after some convincing. It's supposed to be close from here. He made mention that the corridors would start looking sculpted, the closer we got. It's where Smaug sits. If Fili is anywhere, it has to be there."

"We just came from there," Thorin told her. "It was empty. Anywhere else?'

Legolas threw Thorin an accusing look. "We are losing precious time. Do what you will, but we are here for my brother. Are you coming, or are you not?"

"That's being unfair," hissed Gloin. He seemed ready to push Legolas against a wall, hook him to one of the rings there and leave him to rot, if not something worse. "We all heard what they said about her. Because Kili spoke up while we remained silent, he could be in danger now. She has a kid with one of these guys. She's got more reason to betray us than she has to help us. And I say, she seems to know pretty well where she's going."

"Gloin!" Balin exclaimed, and moved to smother any more words he could lash out. "We need them," he added in a hiss. "They know the place better than we do."

"I'd rather make it out alive and without Fili than not at all. No offense, Thorin," said Bombur.

"Then you should have stayed back in the hovel where we found you and your brother," Thorin pushed past him and back in the direction they'd come. "The girl has a son to an Orc, we all know it. Why beat around the bush? She's the reason my nephew is here. What I want to know is," he turned his gaze to Tauriel, "why are _you_ here? What holds you to these people? This place?"

"It's my _home,_ " she told him. "And my father is here. I was sent away for my own safety when it was decided that the eating of children was acceptable. But these are my people."

"We ought to run you through, right here, for what you've done," Balin told her, his voice bitter.

"Tauriel..." Legolas' face fell. "All this time..."

"I only wanted to earn my father's favor and come home," she told them all. "But I know now I will never bring my child to this place. This place is damned. I want to rescue Fili and get out of here!"

"They why do you continue to lie to us?" Nori asked her. "I know liars, missy, and you are one of them. You're leading us into a trap."

"Smaug's domain is the throne room," Tauriel said simply. "It's where a prisoner would be taken."

"And where does Azog live?" Thorin asked her.

At the sound of her father's name, Tauriel's eyes grew wider. "He lives in town." 

"We could capture Azog, and trade," Nori offered, but he got an elbow in the stomach for it at once from his older brother, winced, and shut up.

Nori leaned against the wall. They were all momentarily distracted from the fact that they were still behind enemy lines. He kept an eye out on anyone passing by while he said, "Fili was taken just because you wanted to earn your father's favor. Now you're here rescuing Fili, who can only be your only chance at that favor, or you wouldn't be handing him to your people over so easily. What is in it for you? I don't believe you're here to save Fili at all. You probably get in a much bigger favor if you hand us over as well. Is that how it is?"

"I have nothing to gain anymore," Tauriel said bitterly. "All this time I've been wanting to come back here...to come home. But now that I've come, I realize that it was a stupid wish. Who in their right mind would want to live in this hell?" A tear ran down her cheek. "I kept picturing things through the eyes of that little girl who was sent away. Everything looked perfect because at least my father was here. I've spend the past fifteen years spying and reporting, trying to realize a dream that's not worth having. The best thing my father ever did was send me away. He knew what he was doing. I was..." her eyes skipped to Legolas, "…I was stupid. People got hurt. Fili's gone," she wiped the tear away distractedly. "And it's my fault."

Legolas clearly didn't know what to say. Chest heaving, he turned his face away from her.

"Those are nice words," Bofur told her solemnly. "But how are we to believe them?"

"Do you have children? Do any of you?" she wondered.

"A few of us do, aye," Bombur told her. "Me, Gloin."

"I'm here for my son," she told them. "For Max. But also because the man I have come to love lives here. And I want to get him out. Him, and the rest of his family."

"Do you think Thranduil would have you back in Caledonia?" Legolas asked sharply. "You should be shot for what you've done."

"I know," she said softly. "We'll have to go our own way, make a new home."

A sad silence enveloped the group.

"My nephews...Ori," Thorin said finally. "We must find them. While I have empathy for your plight, what you choose to do, Tauriel, is not my concern."

"Azog makes quarters in what was once your former home," Tauriel told him finally. "I am thinking now that the prisoners might be taken there. I assume you know the way."

"Why are you here if you suspected Fili isn't here all along?" asked Thorin. "Azog...he detests me, I am well aware of it." He was willing to give her some leniency for confessing, but he was loath to help Azog. It would only end with a knife in his back. "Start walking. We are losing time."

"I'm here," Tauriel held her head high, "because I mean to kill Smaug."

"Why?" asked Thorin. "What did he do to you?"

"Look around you!" Tauriel gestured absently back towards the gold statues. "He's got his people slaving away in this mine digging up materials that are virtually useless to everyone, while up above we're starving, dying! His solution to that was to start eating one another, starting with children and the elderly! He's responsible for deaths of so many, and he's got my father wrapped around his finger with some sort of leverage."

"Smaug's responsible for the blast that killed my brother and father 23 years ago," Thorin told her. "It was made to look like an accident, but we all knew the truth. Over a hundred men died that day, right here in this mine."

"Let's just get out of here," Bofur spoke to interrupt them. While they all knew that time was ticking away, they were too intent on finishing this conversation. As far as he was concerned, they could continue this somewhere not so dangerous just the same. "I just want Fili back with us. Smaug, he doesn't concern me right now. But Ori and Kili, they do. They were here a minute ago, and now they could be in danger because we didn't listen to them. Are we going to gamble with the safety of the rest the same way? If she says avoid Smaug, we avoid Smaug." He nudged towards the hall. "Come on."

\- - - - -

Fili was exhausted, nauseous from the poison, and couldn't stop shivering. Even the slightest noise—a rat scuttling or the breeze kicking up outside—set his heart to racing. When footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and down the hall towards his prison, he cowered against the wall, blanket wrapped protectively around him, and faked sleep.

"Azog wants them put here," came a woman's voice. A thud of a falling body soon after, followed by the familiar rattling of chain and the finality of a cuff being locked shut. 

He raised his eyelids ever so slightly to see a familiar patch of black wool visible nearby in a sliver of moonlight from outside.

_Ori._

Another body was placed on the floor nearby and another chain fastened. It was too dark to see the other prisoner, but it had to be another of Thorin's men—perhaps Thorin himself. 

As soon as the two Orcs left the room, Fili tossed the blanket aside and crawled across the center of the room to where Ori lay, curled on his side. They hadn't taken his clothing, nor the other prisoner's, whose face came into sight as soon as Fili approached. He gasped when he realized it was Kili. "Oh...no," he whispered. "No, no, no!" 

With a cry of fear, he leaned town and kissed Kili's cold face, then began sliding the limp body across the floor in the opposite direction until it rested against the far wall. His head spinning from his exertions, he returned to Ori and did the same. The explosive collar around his own neck was a death sentence to all three of them. He had to keep the other two as far away from him as possible, in case Azog decided it was time to push the button.

Minutes passed in which neither the new prisoners stirred. Ori groaned once, but that was as much life as the room had been able to draw from him. They didn't respond when the door creaked open and Azog came in. He brought with him a tattered wooden chair and sat himself down in front of Fili. 

"You shouldn't be lucid already," he warned. "Since you are, I will have to up the dose next time. As you can see, we have found some rats in the tunnels. You seem to know them. Who are they?"

"Thorin's men," Fili whispered, voice hoarse from the screaming he'd done earlier while under the influence of the nightshade. "I met them just two days ago. Maybe it was three. I-I can't remember. I don't know their names. P-please... I'm so cold..."

"As are we all," spoke Azog. "Did they come alone? Are there more? I need to know before Smaug finds out, Durin. If he does, your life is moot, for I will most likely never see my daughter again, or my grandson."

"I can't answer that," Fili murmured. "How could I answer that? I've been your prisoner." His stomach rebelled, churning again around its meager, toxic contents, and Fili whimpered, leaning his head back against the wall behind him.

"I will ask them personally if you push me to it," Azog warned him, but he gave him enough space not to vomit all over him if Fili couldn't help himself.

A man knocked on the door. Azog didn't let him come in. He went to the door and gruffly asked, "Yes?"

"Smaug wants them," came a sullen voice. "Wake them up."

"How—who told him?"

The man remained silent. Azog cursed. "Twenty minutes. I'll see what I can do."

"Bring them whether they're awake or not. Now."

"Twenty minutes, Mil. Don't force me."

The idea of going back down into that overdone throne room where Smaug sat, those creepy red eyes boring into his soul, made Fili feel ever more ill. He had suffered from claustrophobia ever since being trapped in the rubble with his father. Enclosed spaces, to this day, were his undoing. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered so that only Azog could hear. "I'm not trying to be difficult. I want to help you. Clearly, your people have needs. And I can help negotiate for them." _Anything to be released,_ he thought wearily, surreptitiously eyeing Ori and Kili for signs of life.

"Smaug, that bastard, wants only stone to fill his hall with." This was said with contempt. Azog moved over to Kili and nudged him, then a little harder. No response. "Things would be much easier if I left these two here and traded you for my freedom and safety from Smaug."

Fili tried not to give into the panic rising within him. "Smaug already dismissed me once. He's not interested in me."

"Not Smaug," Azog cuffed him lightly on the side of the head, "Thranduil, you simpleton."

"My father cares for me deeply," Fili told him. "But he'll put the welfare of all of Caledonia above my safety. He would be a terrible leader if he did not."

Fili tried to think back to the last time that his father or Legolas had hugged him. He couldn't remember. Suddenly, he felt desperate for human contact.

Azog sighed. The boy truly didn't understand. "Very well, let me spell it out for you," he hissed. "You can take my weapons. You can kill me as soon as I set one foot in that forest of yours again. But all I want is to be away from here, have food that isn't human flesh, and be with my family. I wouldn't be a threat to your woodland empire. But Smaug, Smaug is. He has this notion that you have riches. He doesn't care about the fertile land, you should know. He'll just burn it down if it obstructs him. I offered your kin a trade offer. It was genuine, but it sure as hell wasn't from the hands of that monster under the hill. He knows nothing of honest trade. If he lets you get close enough, you kill him and I give you my word, you'll be free."

He started pacing back and forth. Time was running out. Someone was just outside the door again. Azog held his breath. If it was another one of Smaug's messages, he'd have no further delay.

But the voice that whispered was female. "Azog? Are you here?"

Fili shivered and drew back as far as he could against the wall. _He's testing me,_ Fili thought to himself. _He wants me to go back on my word. He's filling my head with nonsense to see if I'll crack!_ Truth was, Fili felt as if he could. And now, he surely must be going mad, for it seemed as if he could hear Tauriel on the other side of the door.

"Is—is that…?" he locked eyes with the fearsome albino.

"Tauriel?" Azog spoke, and he rushed to open the door and usher her in. "What are you do—" But then his eyes fell on the larger party that followed her, and his eyes bore into hers. "Why have you brought them? There's not enough room. Tauriel, this place is dangerous for you. Consider what it'll be for me if I get caught with that lot!"

"Oh my god, Fili!" Thorin rushed into the room, pushing easily past Azog and kneeling by Fili's side. He examined him head to toe, a steadying hand on Fili's shoulder the entire time. Fili was pale and shaking with fever. The reason became evident when Thorin saw the state of his feet. "This doesn't look good," he whispered, fingers carefully studying the cuts along the bottom. "I think you've got something under your skin here."

Fili hissed in pain. "It's glass, I think. I—I stepped in it yesterday. Please, you have to take Kili and Ori and get away from me, Thorin!" his hand went shakily to the collar around his neck.

"What _is_ this?" Thorin asked Azog. "What did you do?"

"That's a bomb," Azog told Thorin coolly. The years had not rekindled a warmth between them. "Tauriel, why did you bring them here? It's dangerous, and you know it."

"Putting a bomb collar on him isn't?" she hissed. "Remove it. What do you think will happen when Smaug finds out? Remove it and surrender your weapons and we can take you with us, but a bomb collar? That puts us all at risk!"

"What is wrong with Kili and Ori?" Balin asked nobody in particular. "Are they drugged?" 

It would be a lot more difficult to extract them if they couldn't stand on their own feet.

Fili's hand clutched at Thorin's, not wanting the man to vanish from his sight, afraid that maybe he was hallucinating him. "Th-they were unconscious when they were brought in...not long ago," he told Thorin. "I moved them as far away from me as I could."

Thorin turned to the albino. "I don't know what your game is," Thorin said. "I've never claimed to understand you...but if this girl is truly your daughter, and you have any interest in meeting your grandson, you'll release Fili from that collar immediately."

"Take me with you," Azog demanded. "And should we be caught, I am calling it kidnap. I will survive this, Thorin. I need your word."

"You have it!" Tauriel called out. "Will you hurry up, for God's sake? They can be here any moment."

Azog nearly cowered under the firm words of his daughter. She was equipped with a bow that looked menacing and deadly, and he was sure that if none of these people lived up to their end of the bargain, she would protect him. He tossed Thorin the key. "Here. Stop shouting and get me the hell out."

Fumbling with the tiny key, Thorin unlocked the collar and pulled it away from Fili's throat, carefully placing it down on the ground nearby. "Get him out of here," he told Bofur, helping Fili to his feet, where the blond gave a grunt of pain. 

"I don't know how far I can walk like this," Fili said apologetically, pulling the blanket tightly around his torso. "Take Kili and Ori...I'll try to keep up."

"We're not leaving you behind," Bofur said gently. "I'll take you piggy back if I have to, lad."

At that moment, Ori let out a gasp and pulled himself up onto one elbow, "Mother _fuckers_ ," he groaned, laying his spinning head down on the other arm. "Kili?"

Everyone was around him in seconds. 

"Can you walk?" asked Balin.

"What happened?" Thorin needed to know.

"Are you hurt?" Dori was beside himself with worry. Neither had the sense that they were swamping the boy until Tauriel scraped her throat. "Good," she said when she had everyone's attention. "Someone carry Fili and Kili. Dad, help out. Ori, it'd be great if you could walk on your own. Now, can we get going?"

"Someone grabbed me in the mine," Ori told his big brother as Dori helped him to his feet. "I think they drugged me. But you found us...and Fili. I..." His voice petered out as he lay eyes on Azog and he slid closer to Dori. "We should not have left home," he whispered.

Thorin lay two fingers on Kili's carotid to feel for a pulse. "He's alive," he announced. Indeed, Kili proved with a groan, as Thorin slid his arms under him and pulled him upright. "I've got you, Kili," the older man whispered. "We're going back home. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"Come, then," Azog approached Fili. "Let me help you."

"No," Fili shook his head, taking a step backwards and wincing in pain. "Not you. I'm sorry."

"I've got him," Legolas slipped an arm around Fili's waist. "Bofur will get your other side."

"Did he hurt you, Fee?" Tauriel wondered. "I mean...are you..."

Fili couldn't meet her eyes, and clung tightly to Legolas.

"Not now," Legolas told her. "Maybe not ever."

\- - - - -

The way out was more difficult than the way in. Tauriel knew some of the paths, but they relied on Azog to get them to safety past the stationed guards and the ever-watchful eyes that belonged to Smaug. The village was a maze of brick where every corner was no longer a corner but a pile of rubble that poured over the boundaries of a broken street. Getting past the village was decidedly worse, and they were slowed down by their injured companions.

Between the settlement of Dale and the outskirts lay a plain, devoid of irregularities larger than rocks the size of fists. It would be easy to be spotted there. In fact, Tauriel warned them that they probably would be, and it was key to put as much distance between them and the guards before they reached the four-wheelers. The darkness would certainly work in their favor.

Basalt crushed under their feet. It didn't help that Legolas had never been taught how to blend in with a nighttime background. His hair was a ghostly disembodied white that danced in any sparkle of light.

They made it halfway to the edge of the valley before the cries of alarm sounded, and Azog commanded at once, "Run!"


	19. A Penitent Before His Diety of Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All parties return from Erebor unharmed. But, how secure is the relationship between Thorin and Thranduil?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot smexing between Thorin and Thranduil doth ensue.

"Oh, fuck me!" Bombur gasped, laying on some speed and bursting past Legolas and Fili.

"Leave me if you have to," Fili urgently murmured to his adopted brother. "You have to get out of here. You don't want to know what they do to people they don't want to keep around."

"We're not leaving you, Fee," Legolas said, with the most tenderness Fili had heard from him in a long time. "We just came all this way to save your ass." But he did pick up the pace, and he and Bofur pulled Fili along with his feet barely touching the ground.

"They stole my slingshot, the bastards," Ori breathed to Nori as they hastened between boulders. "I have nothing to fight them with."

"Just keep going," Nori kept his eyes on the prize. "We're almost to the four-wheelers."

"Liar," Ori smiled. "I remember where we left them. I was with you."

"Just run then," Nori snuck him a smile. He looked harried, but not so much as the others. Ori concluded that Nori was probably used to running after having been caught in the act, and as such wasn't too bothered. It instilled him with a sense of security. Nori had experience in this sort of matter and he wasn't concerned. He had probably seen worse.

They did manage to reach the four-wheelers before the Orcs reached them, but it was a close call. Thorin and Legolas wheeled around to fend off the vanguard while Tauriel and another of the Caledonians geared up the machines. "Ready!" they called after every four-wheeler had a running engine.

Fili was installed on the first of them; Kili and Ori had to wait for the third. Legolas ignored the complaints that that decision landed him, all the while throwing down one of their assailants. "Stop stalling," he hissed. "We don't have time." It seemed to be the mantra of that night.

The minutes that it took for them to be astride one of the mechanical monsters felt like hours. When finally they wheeled around and increased the distance between them and their attackers, the Orcs oddly aimed their weapons solely at Azog, the betrayer. Azog was left to hide behind a large slate of wood lest he was turned into a meat shield.

"Move out!" Legolas shouted above the din, gunning the engine of his four-wheeler. Fili clung to him, arms around his waist, and closed his eyes, thinking at any time he could expect an arrow in the back.

As the pack of machines shot forward, Tauriel lingered. Her eyes scanned the horizon anxiously.

"We should get moving," Azog prompted her. "They're catching up."

"Mil and Randi?" she asked him.

"They'll find us. They know where to go." Azog cringed as an arrow pinged off the fender inches from his thigh.

Biting her lip in consternation, Tauriel accelerated away from the running pack of Orcs. 

As she did, Azog looked back only once. He wondered how long it would take for Smaug to have his revenge.

The ride across the desolation was dangerous on many accounts. They were followed by a band of angry Orcs, but they were also faced with the terrain itself. Any rock larger than a small boulder that wasn't seen in time could prove a lethal obstacle when they were rushing their vehicles at the top of their speed.

Twice someone suddenly swerved when the loose ground beneath them shifted. The second time it happened, Kili let out a cry and clung desperately to the driver of his quad, a man from Caledonia whose name he didn't know. Ori--who wasn't up to the best of his ability himself--had to give it his all to make sure the device wouldn't topple.

The night thankfully provided enough cover for them to make it back to the woods without any of the bullets hitting a crucial mark. Once there, the men who had stayed behind in the woods stepped forward and assembled a barrier behind the group, blocking anyone else from entering. This was their territory, and they were vigilant. No trespasser would breach its borders tonight.

Fili, Kili and Ori were taken to the infirmary at once.

"More of them?" Dr. Bombadil bemoaned the sudden activity within his office--that usually only had to deal with minor injuries and was poorly equipped to be dealing with so many patients. "What happened?"

"I don't need a doctor," Ori proclaimed. "I'm not hurt!"

"Get into bed!" Dori insisted, pointing to his younger brother. "They were given some sort of drug." He indicated his brother and Kili.

"Let's see then," Bombadil shone his tiny flashlight into Kili's left eye and noted his giant pupils. "Ah, so you have," he nodded as the man swayed a bit on his feet. "Into bed," he patted Kili on the shoulder. "Right here," he steered him towards the bed next to Dwalin. "Fluids," he told his assistant. "Set them up with some fluids and let them sleep it off."

Fili, who was desperate to climb under the covers and get warm, gritted his teeth when the doctor prodded a particularly painful part of his left foot. "I'm going to have to debride them," he shook his head ruefully. "I'm going ask Dr. Oin to help me out so we can get this over with and you can sleep. How much Keflex do we have left in the supply cabinet?" he asked his assistant.

"Enough," he was told. "But Tom, those drugs are getting old. They may not work."

Kili felt ill as he shifted on the bed. He turned on his side to watch the doctor handle Fili, and winced as Fili was in obvious discomfort. "Are we safe here?" he whispered to the doctor. "They attacked this place before. And Tauriel, and Azog...are we safe? Are they locked up?"

"We left a host of our best guarding the eastern border of the forest." Legolas slid two pillows behind Fili's back as he was positioned, covering most of him with a soft blanket, which Fili accepted gratefully. "They won't attack. They have too much to lose."

"They have _nothing_ to lose," Fili corrected him. "How they're living...it's--it's awful. I don't know how they've survived this long." 

"This will only hurt for a moment, Fili," Dr. Bombadil said, sinking a needle into the arch of Fili's foot. Fili closed his eyes against the discomfort, reaching blindly for Legolas' hand. 

Oin, meanwhile, had brought a basin of water and some sterile instruments over for the other doctor. "Dancing around in your bare feet in glass," he patted Fili's knee, "bad idea."

"Tell me about it," Fili grunted. "How are Bilbo and Dwalin doing?"

"Recovering, lad, but not as fast as these people would like," Oin commented. He patted Dr. Bombadil on the back; so far Dr. Bombadil was the only one who took his time and allowed everything to take as long as it needed, even though he barely had the capacity. "Dwalin's wound will take a couple of weeks, I'm afraid."

"A couple of weeks," Thranduil repeated upon emerging from the shadows. His eyes softened as soon as he saw Fili, and he walked up to take his hand in his own. "But you're alive and here with us. That's what is more important, my son. I will hear of what happened after you've rested. I only need to know if we'll be safe until that time." Though he was looking at Fili, the words were intended for his other son, Legolas, who stood on the other side of the bed.

Legolas was never the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, but anyone who knew him couldn't help but know he was in love with Tauriel.

"She has a man...one of _them,_ " he told his father. "He's Max's father. Now that it's known, at least the suspicion will finally be turned away from me. I think she expects him to come here, him and his sister."

"His name is Mil," Fili told them. "They want out. Apparently, many of them do. Azog is here, Dad. Did you see?"

Thranduil closed his eyes at the painful reminder. "Azog is in captivity. I couldn't allow anything else as soon as I saw him. They talked to me about Tauriel. Thorin first mentioned it. I wouldn't believe it, but our men backed it up. I am sorry, son. She is in the cells with him. Would you want to see her?"

"No," Legolas answered quickly. "She should be sent away. Fili could have died."

"She just wanted to be with her father," Fili defended Tauriel's actions, "and make a better life for her son. She would have died in Erebor if Azog hadn't sent her here."

"She made a conscious choice to put you in danger," Legolas reminded him.

"I know." Fili turned his face away as Dr. Bombadil extracted a piece of glass from the sole of his foot. He couldn't quite feel it, but the sight made him a little queasy. "That was a bad choice."

Dr. Bombadil scraped his throat. "Should you be here, Sirs? Many patients have been brought in today, and they need to rest." He looked over at Kili and Ori, who were both nearly asleep. "I would appreciate you stationing more guards here tonight, as I'm sure you can imagine, but I think it's been a tough day for all of us."

"He's right," Fili told his father and brother. "I am really very tired. I feel as if I could sleep for days."

"And I recommend you do so," Dr. Bombadil assured him, "as soon as I take care of your other foot."

Fili, again, did not watch as the needle containing anesthetic found its mark. His eyes found Kili's instead, and they clung. "Hi," he whispered.

A tired but gentle smile was returned to him. Kili didn't care if Legolas saw it; he was glad enough they were all back in one piece, and he wasn't technically crossing any boundaries by smiling. "Hi. I'm happy we got you back. I don't think I want to know how we did it though. You scared me."

"I was scared too," Fili admitted. "I wish that none of you had gotten hurt, though." His eyes surveyed Dwalin, Bilbo and Ori, who had finally given into his urge to sleep. "Do you wish you'd stayed back at that little cottage in the highlands?"

"No." Kili didn't need to think about that. "But I don't think Erebor is all that appealing anymore. Uncle will probably feel the same. Which means we need to figure out where we will go instead. Your dad," and he only mentioned it after he was sure Thranduil was outside of hearing range, "he doesn't want us here, does he? We've been nothing but trouble to him."

"This would have happened whether you came here or not," Fili said. "Thranduil knows that. Tauriel is one of ours. And Erebor was a tinderbox ready to explode at any moment. You guys just happened to show up as it was unraveling. I'm glad you did," Fili told him, "but none of this is on you."

"Get better soon, Fee," whispered Kili. With a smile that was only momentarily broken by a fit of dizziness, he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep.

\- - - - -

The courtyard behind Thranduil's house was serene. A trickle of water ran through delicately placed rock and gnarled tree, from which yet sprung blossom. Behind that garden began the dark of the woods. It was one of Caledonia's loveliest places.

It was also private.

"What are you doing here?" Thranduil demanded from the shadow upsetting the natural order.

"You never came," Thorin said quietly. He did not look at him.

Thranduil stood where he was. "I beg your pardon?" His words were quieter now--inoffensive, but no less careful. "Why are you here, Thorin?"

"When we went to rescue Fili in Erebor," Thorin turned to him, "you didn't come. Why not?"

"Because Smaug wanted me to," Thranduil said. He reached his hand for a blossom to keep from having to acknowledge Thorin. "Had I gone, Fili would not have had any value to them. There would have been no reason not to dispose of him. Did you think I did not care enough?"

"I gave up long ago trying to figure out why you do what you do," Thorin told him. "But if he were my son, I would have been the first man bursting through the door to that prison where he was being held. It was his old bedroom, Thranduil. In our old house. I only pray he doesn't remember that place and that he thinks it was just another building." 

"I would have sentenced him to death," Thranduil bit back, for Thorin's stubbornness brought back the bile of days of old. He felt like he was being accused of much more than simply not leading the team into Erebor. "Legolas is more skilled in warfare than I am. If I would have come along, I would have threatened Fili's safety as well as my other son's loyalty from his soldiers. You think you have all the answers, Thorin, but you forget that people are not always as tempestuous as you. I would not be surprised if you blamed me for him getting taken in the first place, too. Do you?"

"Of course not." Thorin didn't move from where he was seated. "And I'm sorry that you feel I'm tempestuous. My life hasn't been quite as easy as yours, Thranduil. I chose a more challenging path because I was true to myself."

"Have I not been?" Thranduil looked at Thorin accusingly. The choice of words hurt, especially coming from the man before him, and Thranduil responded by drawing up his walls.

"Are you kidding me?" Thorin got angrily to his feet. "You did everything your father told you to do, your entire life! You ran from your own feelings and desires! You got _married,_ for fuck's sake."

"It was you who never came back!" Thranduil lashed back. "You have some nerve!"

"I _wanted_ to," Thorin told him, voice tight with barely controlled emotion. "I wanted to so badly. But I could never get away. You have no idea how much I wanted you, Thranduil. How much I needed you. You thought it was just some silly teenage crush. Maybe it was...then. But there has never been anyone else. Not for me."

The fury in his voice made Thranduil wish he could be angry with Thorin, but all of that evaporated upon realizing what Thorin was suggesting. Thranduil leaned against one of the branches, his eyes cast down, because he was afraid of what they would reflect if Thorin saw them now. "Are you angry because I married her?" he whispered. "Or are you angry because I never gave you a decent reply? I married her because she was kind, and I thought it was more than I deserved. I loved her as a spouse, but not as a woman. Or does that matter not?"

"I'm angry because I've spent my life yearning for you," Thorin, who suddenly felt his knees grow quite weak, sat back down on the stone bench. "No one else compared. I'm angry at myself for not doing a better job of letting you know. I'm angry for not standing up to my own father when I had the chance and telling him how I felt about you."

Thranduil smiled faintly. Thorin's dad had departed, and he was telling him now. "Just because I have a son doesn't mean it would be too late." He spoke barely over a whisper. "If you'd still feel that way, of course. But I don't think you would tell me this if you didn't. Am I wrong?"

"You are the only person who has ever made me feel truly happy," Thorin told him. "You loved me for me, not for what I could do for you, or because you were afraid of me. We owed each other nothing, and yet we enjoyed each other's company."

It wasn't far from here, in fact--the banks of the little stream where they had kissed one another for the first time. It had been Christmas time, and chilly. They had had the scene to themselves. 

"Do you remember that first time?" Thorin needed to know. "That Christmas when we were sixteen?"

Thranduil chuckled. His fingers sought out another blossom and traced the edges of the petal. "How could I forget my first time, Thorin? It feels like centuries ago, but I could never forget that."

"It was another lifetime," Thorin agreed. "Another world. A world where nothing could hurt us. Before the bombs. We were so lucky then. We just didn't realize. How could we have known what was coming?"

"But we could." The expression of the taller saddened. "The signs were there. Ten years of unrest passed before the Dragonfire fell. We could have seen, and we could have done something about it. But we didn't, because we thought we were invincible. It matters not. There's little we can do about it now but make the best of it." He looked up at Thorin. "Do you believe Smaug will come here? I fear that he will, and that he will ruin everything we have simply to have us reduced to his fate."

"He might," Thorin told him, "but he'd lose. He has only a handful of men and women left who are loyal to him. The rest live in fear and want a better life. A good life. What I want to know is...would you turn them away if they came to you--to Caledonia--to try to make a better life?"

"I wouldn't let them in," Thranduil said at once. "They're too dangerous. These are savage people. They are used to stealing and killing. But," because he saw the problem that his attitude posed, "we could arrange a trade, perhaps. I wouldn't know what for, though we could figure something out. But not Smaug, not _his_ people."

"Many of those _people_ were citizens of Erebor. Good people. _My_ people," Thorin reminded him. "They stayed, hoping Smaug, and I suppose Azog as well, would make them a good, safe home. But that didn't happen. They've lost their children, Thranduil. Lost their freedom. He has them digging up and smelting gold down in the mines. He's building some kind of shrine to himself down there. We need to help them. And Smaug needs to die."

"Then we agree on something, at least. Should we involve Azog? He knows a lot that could be of help."

"Azog is Tauriel's father," Thorin informed Thranduil of the one piece of the puzzle that Thranduil was yet unaware of. "And the grandfather of her child. He wants Smaug gone. He wants to help."

Thranduil's eyes widened almost like he was afraid of that fact. "Azog? That bastard sired Tauriel?" In his world, the two were incomparable. Azog was a nasty echo from the underground, and Tauriel was a warrior, virtuous yet eager for the hunt. She was one of their best fighters, but she was never unfair, whereas her father--

"Very well," he nodded to himself. "As long as we keep them in separate teams, she can be his anchor not to betray us. How do you propose we do this? Because if we do it, we need to do it fast."

"If we wanted to kill them all, I feel certain we could," Thorin told him. "Their numbers are low and their morale is poor. They have but a few guns. One well-timed siege would ruin them. But Smaug...he hides underground. He uses them as a shield. We need to send someone into the mines. An assassin."

"An _assassin_?" Thranduil nearly laughed. "Where would we find an assassin, Thorin?"

"It would have to be someone who knows the mines and could get the jump on Smaug." Thorin stroked his beard thoughtfully as he spoke. "But someone who knows the mines could always accompany him. Do you have anyone among you who is a gifted sniper?"

Thranduil considered that description. "There's one who used to live there," he said. "He lives at the edge of the forest. He makes sure nobody comes past him. Obviously," he frowned, "he can only cover so much ground. But he's a good sniper. I just don't know if we can catch him."

"Catch him?" Thorin questioned Thranduil's unusual choice of words.

"Well, he's the best keeper of the border that we have," the other said. He quirked a brow, trying to appear unphased. "We need him to keep an eye out. And he's not exactly a people person. You'd have a hard time convincing him."

Thorin studied Thranduil's face carefully. "You like him," he concluded. "Maybe you _more_ than like him."

"Maybe it's none of your business. Regardless, you'll have a hard time convincing him anyway. He doesn't exactly hold a great deal of loyalty. That he keeps an eye on the border is purely because we pay him for it in goods."

"Tell me more about him," Thorin insisted.

Thranduil was silent for a long second. He breathed in. "His name is Bard. He's an archer, a scout. He walks the edge of the woods. Occasionally he goes into the desolation, and occasionally he goes up the river in his barge. He has a family, but he lost his wife to the Dragonfire, like so many others. We'd have trouble finding him. Days at least. He does not usually answer when summoned, only when we have an agreement to meet, at a set time and day."

Thorin nodded, understanding. There was something, then, between Bard and Thranduil. He could tell it in the way Thranduil's eyes lit up when he spoke of him regardless of how hard he tried to mask it.

"I would understand if you didn't want to endanger this man." Thorin leaned back, pulling his feet off the ground and on one of the roots, his arms wrapped around his knees. It was one of the less poised moments Thranduil witnessed from him. 

"Oh, he hates Smaug more than we do. Bard is a bit of a ranger, and Smaug poisoned the world. He considers him personally responsible for the desolation. No, Bard is a fine choice, given that we're able to find him." He looked Thorin over. "He doesn't like Legolas much, but I'm sure he might have heard of you. Would you seek him?"

"Was he from Erebor? Is Bard is real name, or would I know him by another?" What Thorin really wanted to say is that he'd rather leave this _Bard_ person, whom Thranduil was obviously quite taken with, in his isolated little cottage on the border of the woods, thank you very much. 

But right now, he needed to choose his battles.

"It's his real name. He always lived on the border, so you probably only know him by the name everyone else gives him. He's the Bowman."

The garden created a private oasis for them, but Thorin seemed weary and ill at ease. Thranduil could not blame him. "Fili and Kili will feel much better in the morning," he said, because he assumed that to be the problem. "Is it inappropriate if I asked you to stay here tonight?"

Thorin grunted uncomittally. What he really wanted to do was pack up a bag and run away from all of this. He wanted to bury his heads in his hands and cry. His disappointment at the state of his former home weighed on him--a wet, cold blanket that slowed all his movements. What he wouldn't have given to be back in that cottage in the highlands, sitting at the table with his sister while Kili practiced archery in the backyard.

"I doubt I'll be very good company," was the way he chose to reply.

Thranduil inclined his head. "I could return you to your people, of course. But I'm asking you for me. We will deal with Bard in the morning. I am tired, Thorin. It would mean a lot to me if you stayed here tonight."

"And what happens if I stay?" Thorin asked him, pushing an errant hair away from Thranduil's forehead. "Will it be like the other afternoon, when you touched me like we've never been apart?"

Warmth returned to the other man's movements. "If you let me, then yes." Thranduil watched Thorin for a clue that he wasn't setting himself up for rejection. Their affairs had never been smooth or secure, and even now that he knew Thorin had never wanted another, he wasn't sure what that meant for him.

"Will you lay down for me, clothing gone...and let me lick you, right up your center?" Thorin murmured into the shell of Thranduil's ear, so that no one else could possibly hear. 

Thranduil's gaze rested upon Thorin with surprise of this sudden change. A smile curled around his lips. "Come with me."

He extricated himself from their proximity and sauntered back into the house, mindful of every move that he made. As he reached the door, he looked over his shoulder at the floor--but only to indicate that he was waiting--and walked on. Legolas wouldn't be in the house tonight, because Thranduil made sure that he locked all entry points before proceeding.

In the middle of the living room, he dropped his button-up shirt to the floor.

Thorin was on him in a heartbeat, lips mapping every inch of his chest--licking, sucking, tasting. He dropped to his knees before Thranduil and gazed up at him. Most of his hair had fallen loose of its leather binding. His blue eyes shone.

"I know you don't feel the same way about me," he said gently. "Not anymore. It's been years. You've moved on. I haven't. I get that. But if you'd let me...just the one last time..."

"Not if you intend it to be the last time," Thranduil said strictly, working off his trousers. "That's nonsense. If we do this, we both want it. Anything else won't do."

"There's no question of me wanting this," Thorin told him. Still fully clothed, his eyes followed Thranduil's every move--a penitent before his deity of choice. "There has never been."

Thranduil leaned before him until they were at the same height. "I know you want this, but that's not what I meant."

"I know what you meant, Thranduil," Thorin's face fell, "but I cannot-- _will_ not--stay here in Caledonia, as much as I'd want to, knowing that there is someone else in your life. You might be willing to split your affections, but I am not."

"Someone else in my life?" Thranduil looked at him puzzled. "What is in your thoughts, Thorin? What is going on in that mind of yours? My wife died with the Dragonfire. There is no one else."

"You must think I don't know you at all." Thorin sat back on his haunches. "I saw the look in your eyes when you spoke of this man who lives on the edge of the woods. This... _Bard._ " A crease of doubt appeared on his forehead. "Who is he to you?"

Thorin looked so serious that Thranduil didn't dare smile where he otherwise would. It was a compliment disguised as jealousy. "A warm body, years ago," he said. "He is a hermit without ties. Why would I invest my heart in him, especially when it's solidly grounded somewhere else already?"

Thorin studied him longer, as if trying to discern the truth. At last, he said, "You have a wonderful place here, Thranduil. A _safe_ and harmonious place. I'd like to stay and become part of it. I'd like Kili to know his brother, and I want, more than anything, to finish what you and I began all those years ago."

Naked as the day he was born, Thranduil cupped Thorin's face and kissed him. "No more distractions," he promised. "You stay. Kili stays. Your company will probably stay as well. I'm not sure my people will like the change of policy, so have your men help out and earn their respect before we tell them." He smiled as he looked at Thorin with eyes half closed. "Undress."

"Not yet," Thorin smiled. "Let me look at you. It has been so long."

His eyes drank in Thranduil's pale skin, artfully decorated with contrasting dark tattoos that only accentuated his beauty. He was still as slender as when he was a teenage boy, but his musculature had caught up to his height. 

"Beautiful," Thorin told him. "Like an angel."

"You and I both know how wrong you are." Canting his head sideways in amusement, Thranduil was in no rush to saunter over to the kitchen, his long hair flowing behind, and poured them two glasses of wine. He walked back equally unabashed about his body, proud of it still being clear of marks in a world such as this. Thranduil was still pure and pristine, if he were judged on looks alone. 

He handed Thorin a glass, drank from his own and licked a red kiss into the other's mouth.

After a few minutes of that, Thorin felt flushed and overdressed. His hands scrabbled to undo his belts and zippers, pushing his clothing aside with little regard for furniture or propriety. "You can still take me from zero to sixty in five seconds flat," Thorin whispered. He only realized once it left his mouth how cheesy it sounded.

But it pleased Thranduil, and the sight before him even more so. Thorin had the build of a miner. He'd been strong before, but the years had been very kind on him, for Thranduil drank in the sight. It only made him thirstier.

His body smoothly dropped to his knees, his hands on Thorin's hips. The way in which he looked up however had nothing to do with worship. It was the look of a predator who was about to launch into flight. "Marvelous," he spoke. Then he crawled away from Thorin, tempting him to follow.

Thorin let out a predatory growl, grabbing Thranduil by his ankle and yanking him back across the carpeting. "Oh no," he chuckled darkly, straddling Thranduil's hips and trapping them between his strong thighs. His hands held Thranduil's playfully to the floor on either side of the blond's head. "You aren't going anywhere. Not tonight." He leaned down and began kissing Thranduil in earnest.

They forgot the attack on the village and the insecurities of their people easily. Thranduil allowed Thorin to follow the paths of their history, mapping them out on his body with calloused hands that did nothing if not arouse him further. He was an anomaly in this world, with his unmarred skin and his pale complexion, on which large tattoos danced and further enhanced his beauty. His arms strained to be allowed free, but nonetheless Thranduil opened his body for Thorin. "What are you thinking of?" he whispered under the savage scrutiny.

"I'm thinking," Thorin's voice was tight with emotion, "how much I'd like to wake up to this sight every morning. I'm thinking of how much I missed out on because I simply didn't run away from home and come live with you when I should have. I'm thinking...I might like one of those tattoos myself," he grinned.

The mention of the tattoos surprised Thranduil. "Where?" he was quick to ask, and followed Thorin's body with his eyes. "Shoulders? Or neck, perhaps? You know," he added with a twinkle of a challenge, "I don't usually sleep on the floor. Waking up to this every day is not something I can promise."

"I was thinking...." Thorin took one of Thranduil's hands and led it to his hip, then slipped it around to the small of his back, "here. And another maybe on my shoulder. Maybe you can choose a design for me. I really like yours. Very sexy." He leaned down and licked along the curlicues of dark ink on Thranduil's shoulder. "Maybe you can do mine?"

Thranduil's palm spread on Thorin's skin, pulling their hips together as a hint. "It would take me months," said he, letting his eyes close and his head sink back against the carpet. "Mine took almost a year. I did it myself."

His neck was bared for Thorin, but Thranduil leaned in and whispered an inch from Thorin's mouth, "You said you'd lick me at my center."

"I haven't forgotten what I said," Thorin's smile was predatory. "But it's nice to know you're still thinking about it. Come, then. Let's go upstairs to your room."

Thranduil however shook his head. "We've had enough times in a bed. I'm comfortable enough where I am." He licked his lips with every intent of flustering his partner.

Thorin chuckled, "We've had _twice_ in a bed." He reminded him, pulling Thranduil towards the sofa, and bade him to stay on his knees and bend over the cushions, laying his head on his arms. "And that wasn't nearly enough for me." He gently moved Thranduil's knees to rest about eighteen inches apart, exposing the man's most private spot to him.

"There now," he whispered, laying a hand on Thranduil's flank, "that is quite a view."

And Thranduil, always so ready to have the final word, silenced in waiting. He made sure he was comfortable where he was, jutting his hips back, his body poised for the first intimate touch.

Only twice had they done this, and yet none had come close to making Thranduil forget about Thorin. Once in a world quite different from this, on a Christmas day, and once a year or so later. Trust had been broken time and again between them, but not the passion that was theirs. His breathing picked up, anticipating Thorin's hands on him.

The passionate but awkward kisses they had shared days ago had left Thorin burning for more. And he had been quite certain he wasn't going to get that. 

So now Thorin took his time, reacquainting himself with the scents and sights of Thranduil's body, teasing him with tiny licks and kisses wherever his mouth could find purchase. A look beneath the tall, still very pale, man found his cock alert and ready for whatever Thorin would deliver.

"You've gotten older," Thorin told him quietly, "but you've hardly aged at all." He kissed a line down Thranduil's spine and when he came to the cleft of his ass, he continued to plunder, spreading the cheeks and nibbling, kissing, an explorer revisiting a land he'd discovered so long ago that he'd almost forgotten it. 

A willing body pushed back against his ministrations readily. "I didn't know you picked up knowledge of this," Thranduil panted. "What else have you learned?" Having Thorin kiss him in this way was amazing and yet completely unexpected. But what had he expected? They hadn't had any experience when they had first found each other. Decades had passed between then and now. "Can you go deeper?" he wondered.

"I assure you," Thorin licked his lips to moisten them, "that my skills come only from listening to others talk. The rest is simply me doing what I want to do. I already told you, there has been no one else, Thranduil. But I am thinking you don't believe me."

Without any more fanfare, he leaned over his partner and licked a stripe from behind Thranduil's balls and up over his sphincter muscles, which quivered deliciously beneath his tongue. It wasn’t much longer before he was able to delve in a bit with a finger. "You tell me when to stop," he entreated. 

Thranduil nodded, but he wasn't willing to stop Thorin in any way, overwhelmed by the feeling of having him inside and the thought that it was all preparation for something quite a bit bigger. "That's good," whispered he, his body hot for the touch and his lip trembling.

At that moment, someone knocked on the door. Thranduil went utterly still, and he hoped Thorin would, too.

"Dad?" came a voice. "Why is the door locked?"

Thranduil groaned. Well, he wasn't going to pretend nobody was in the house if Legolas was bright enough to come to the right conclusions himself, but he couldn't answer either.

"Well?" Thorin whispered in his ear. "You going to send him off? It's only a matter of time before he gets out his key."

"I put the key in the lock," Thranduil whispered, mortified of his son entering the house and ruining the moment. Which he also would if Thranduil went up to the door. Finally, and with plenty of embarrassment, he called out, "Busy!"

"Dad?! Are you...ew!" came the disgruntled voice from the other side of the door. "I'll spend the night in the infirmary with Fili," he said to the door, even going to far as to lift the mail slot. "Glad to see you two are so concerned." 

Then he was gone.

"We are terrible people," Thorin concluded, slipping a third finger inside of Thranduil. "Just terrible."

"Shut up and move your fingers," said Thranduil to distract him from the fact that he felt very much the same. "I'll make up with him later." His cock was in dripping need of attention, and the rest of his sweating body ready to take it all further.

"Still can't believe you have a kid, Thran." Thorin angled his fingers _just so,_ grinning at the gasp it brought from the man beneath him. "And, shockingly, he's even more uptight and haughty than you are." He reached around front to grasp Thranduil's neglected cock. "Don't you worry. I told you, I only have eyes for you." 

Thranduil clutched at the piece of furniture he was bent forward over. "That is inappropriate in so many ways," he hissed and chuckled at the same time, straining to sit back and straddle Thorin, but he wasn't given much ground. Which was why he moved one hand back to find out his partner's body and stop being so passive about it. "Fuck me all right, you bastard?" he egged him on, and groaned with his face flush against a pillow when he found Thorin's length with a firm grip.

Thorin chuckled darkly. "Ah, now there's the man I remember." He gave one of his partner's ass cheeks a firm slap. "Needy, bossy, petulant and--" he gave his probing fingers one more twist, "--insatiable."

Withdrawing the digits, he reached for the end table, where he had placed small pat of butter. "What?" he raised his eyebrows at Thranduil's questioning expression. "I'm told it makes for incredible lube. We shall see."

"Savage," Thranduil shook his head. "We've got lubricant, you know." It was a plant extract that had been discovered a couple of years into the war. Thorin couldn't know that, of course, but he was about to find out. "Unless you've wanted to butter me up for years. In that case, go right ahead."

"I'm not moving from this spot," Thorin's fingers tightened their grip on Thranduil's hip, "so butter it shall be. He licked at one of his own fingers." I haven't tasted butter in years, and wouldn't you know? You have gobs of it here. May as well put it to use." He slathered the softened, slippery stuff on his own dick, hissing at the contact. "It's quite slick," he commented. "You're going to love it, Thran."

Again, his fingers found Thranduil's asshole, but only long enough for a cursory coating before he carefully eased himself inside--but only just an inch or so. "Ah, _god_ ," he winced. "Is this okay?"

Thranduil had been out of practice for years. He stilled to accommodate Thorin's girth, his hand gripping the man's behind and kneading it while he got used to the sensation and size. "Butter as lube," he tried to distract himself with that idea. What was the world coming to? "That's a first. Go deeper."

His cock twitched when Thorin moved further in. Thranduil sighed in bliss. He didn't have enough patience to do this slowly. His body could handle it, he knew. And so suddenly he pushed his hips back around Thorin, lodging him fully in, eliciting a gasp from his lips.

"Still a tough guy," Thorin chuckled. "A tough guy with something to prove. Well, I also have something to prove." His left hand slid forward and curled into Thranduil's hair, turning his head so that their eyes met. "I want you, Thranduil. Want you now …More. Than. Ever." He punctuated each word with a twist of his hips, brushing over Thranduil's sweet spot.

At every burst, his partner clutched the sofa he was holding on to for dear life and stifled--with diminishing success--his moans. At the last, he pushed himself off the couch and in a sitting position on Thorin's lap, where he was finally able to lean his head back against Thorin's shoulder and move on his own accord.

What followed was a dance with a chorus of sounds. Thranduil was a man who could not keep quiet, try as he might, and was not ashamed at the wantonness of it. He continued to grind down and bring Thorin deeper, his long silky hair flowing over both their shoulders.

"I missed you," he managed to bring out between gasps and moans, and cried out when his spot was brushed once again. " _Thorin._ "

Tears, unabashed, came to Thorin's eyes, and he clung to Thranduil. He had waited years for this. Years of wanting and dreaming, to his own shame and personal derision.

"I love you," he whispered. "I've loved you since we were kids."

As they both found their completion, and after, Thorin held onto Thranduil as if he might float away at any moment.


	20. It Will Make the Horses Stop Screaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made to attack Smaug. Fili's condition worsens.

Thranduil leaned his weight back against Thorin. He smiled, fatigued. "I love you. You're here now. You're not going anywhere." He had never seen Thorin cry like this. The unexpectedly soft side of a man who had the strength to bend him over and keep him there, it touched him. He closed his eyes, his chest rising and falling. "Stay?"

"I will," Thorin told him. "I'll help you protect Caledonia and deal with Smaug. I cannot guarantee that all my men will want to be part of this society, but I do, and I think Kili will as well." He lay a kiss to Thranduil's forehead. "I feel as if I've found home."

"You should have gotten here sooner," Thranduil told him, not unkindly. "Having you here, I never thought I'd get that chance. Especially after you said you wanted to leave again. Fili was ready to go with you, too." He gently extricated himself from Thorin and turned around in his lap to properly face him. There he smiled softly. "You're here."

"Yes," Thorin held him tightly, as if starved for the contact. Truth be told, he was. "I had to see Erebor, Thranduil. It wasn't an option. It's my home. But that home...it's gone."

"I told you it would be so," Thranduil said with eyes downcast. As much as it meant Thorin staying here with him, it gave him no joy to kill a dream. "Perhaps, once Smaug is gone, something could be made of the place. But he's no easy adversary. The Dragonfire, he is rumored to have some in stock still. That's why we haven't tried taking down his throne. Even if I send Bard, there's no guarantee we will not die in the retaliation that follows."

"I am not happy with the way Bilbo and Fili were treated," Thorin told him, "but I feel, as a matter of diplomacy, that we—that _you_ —should arrange safe shelter for any of those living in Erebor who want to get out from under Smaug's thumb. Provided, of course, that they pull their own weight. If there are missiles left, Balin will know how to disarm them."

Thorin waited for the argument that he felt was certain to come.

Instead, Thranduil treated him as a sparring partner. "What of those who are violent?" he asked. "And how would we prevent those who are loyal to Smaug from infiltrating us? It's a dangerous idea unless we think it through." He considered that. "Perhaps our thoughts on it are not enough. Have you got wise men in your company? I remember Balin to be quite the strategist back in the days. Should we convene a meeting?"

"Each person would have to prove his or her worth, and demonstrate a trade—or at least the desire to learn one," Thorin suggested. "It's clear to me that you have more work here than you can handle, especially when it comes to food production. I've brought with me an electrician, a policeman, a farmer, a plumber, a former mayor and the rest have other—but by no means lesser—skills." He carded his fingers through Thranduil's impossibly blonde hair. "My sister had a dream," he said wistfully. "She wanted us to start rebuilding. First, here in Scotland. Then beyond. I hear Fili saying many of the same things. It scares you, doesn't it?"

"Not to be rebuilding. But the world out there...I've seen nothing good come from outside, except for you, and even you weren't welcome here at first." A mess was starting to form between Thranduil and Thorin, what with neither of them taking the time to clean up. Thranduil didn't bother. "My place isn't out there. I grew up in these woods, and I will remain here until the end of my days. But the trade Azog demanded, it wouldn't be such a terrible thing to see come into fruition. If only Smaug were gone. Your boy, Kili, does he feel the same about rebuilding?"

"He's very passionate about fulfilling his mother's dying wish, even if he doesn't completely understand it," Thorin admitted. "I have a bigger concern about Kili, however. I think he's harboring a romantic attachment to Fili."

"...Who is his brother."

Thranduil wasn't instantly appalled, but that was because he considered Fili a son and Kili, well, not. The longer he considered it however, the more he became convinced that it was a bad decision. "Are you sure?" he wondered. "They could simply be spending a lot of time together because they're brothers. It wouldn't be unheard of."

"I know what a man in love looks like, Thranduil," Thorin smiled gently. "Kili knows little of the world. I'm sure Fili is very appealing to him on many levels. I'm pretty sure he's still, you know... unblemished."

Thranduil smiled mysteriously. "I wouldn't know. I raised him. By default, I'm supposed to be shunned from that part of his life." He leaned back and looked Thorin over, pondering. "Would it be bad? Surely your lad is setting himself up for a lot of pain if he pursued it, but I am not sure whether the rules that normally apply to these matters would be fitting for them."

Thorin chuckled. "I was referring to Kili's virginity. Young people these days just don't seem to be as promiscuous as we were at their age, do they? Maybe it's simply because they are fewer in number. Or maybe it's the world around us." He raised his eyebrows. "I'd be overjoyed if Kili found someone special who wanted to take care of him. Would it be so bad if he and Fili grew close?"

Thranduil tilted his head, amused. "Then why do you say you're concerned about him? I wouldn't mind it, as long as they were discreet about it. The older people of Caledonia at least would certainly object. But you're absolutely sure? I wouldn't want to be giving him my support if it turns out he's not smitten. And what of Fili? Does he know? Do you think that if Kili likes him, Fili feels the same?"

"I've hardly had time to talk to Fili at all—especially about something like _this_." Thorin shifted a bit, as his legs were starting to lose their blood flow. "I just want them both to be happy. Kili was lonely for company for far too long."

"I thought he liked the knitting boy," Thranduil mused, raising his weight onto his knees because he thought Thorin wanted to change how he sat. "Should we ask them? I'm not sure about Kili, but if Fee likes him enough, he will know that it's not generally acceptable."

"Maybe we should just let them sort things out on their own, in their own time." Thorin got to his knees, then to his feet. "I'm done controlling Kili's life. I fear I have been overbearing for too long. Now, how about we go visit those hot springs of yours?"

"Oh," Thranduil got up and kissed Thorin pleasantly, "that is quite the plan. And then we gather your people and mine and we convene."

\- - - - -

None of the men that hadn't been confined to the infirmary that night, could sleep. The population was restless and shared furtive glances, joined around the great fire in the center of town for the night.

Most of them were unsure and frightened. Their lives had been secure before with nary a worry, but now Azog was among them; and He Who Lived In The Mountain most likely knew where they lived. "What do we do?" one asked another the question they were all thinking.

"Do we leave?"

"Of course we don't. There is no place better than here."

"Then what do we do? We can't just sit and wait."

Legolas stood up. "And what are you doing now?" he demanded from the elderly man who prompted the last of questions, fed up with the insecurity of his men. They resembled frightened cattle more than grown, independent men. "Sitting and waiting, are you not? Why? For what purpose? What is it you _want_ to do?"

"I want Smaug's head on a stick!" Bofur sat up straight, setting his cup aside. Others chimed in assent. 

"With Thorin's key and knowledge of the mines, we shouldn't have any problems finding Smaug again," Nori leaned forward, elbow resting on his knees. "We could take him out."

"And what if he has bombs?" Ori wondered. "What if he's just waiting for us to go there, then blows us up?" He felt wholly uncomfortable to be speaking up in public like this.

"He'll be dead too then, won't he?" Bombur looked at Ori as if he'd gone mad. "He loves himself far too much to risk that."

"He had the bombs before," said Narsil, one of Legolas' officers. "Perhaps he is immune like Thranduil. Everyone exposed got the scars, but not him."

"And you'll be playing directly into his hand if we send in my father," Legolas countered. "One less person his weapon has no effect on. Don't you see that that's exactly what he wants?"

"But we can't send someone without defenses. Smaug would kill him."

Legolas sat back, aware of that. He eyed Thorin's crowd. "Does one of you not have the markings? Now is the time to speak up."

"You mean, no keloids?" Ori knitted his brow. He knew for certain that Kili did not, for he had seen him completely naked. But he wasn't about to tell Legolas. He knew that Fili's brother already had issues with Kili. He wasn't going to throw him under the bus.

"We are all burned," Bombur told him emphatically. "We'll show you, if you insist."

Legolas wrinkled his nose, not quite so interested in that prospect. "Very well, sending someone who is immune won't be the plan, then. But we need to send someone. We cannot stay here and wait for them to charge us."

"We've just been there," several of the men complained. "We got lucky once. To enter the mountain again will be tempting fate." He threw a look at Thorin's people. Some of Legolas' party still blamed them for their waste of time in the mines. But so did Thorin's men, who looked right back.

"There is Bard," said another voice with the authority that demanded attention. The people turned to the source and scrambled aside to let their leader pass. Some of them blinked oddly that Thranduil came followed by Thorin.

Thranduil looked around the company, then at his son. For an instant there was the proud smile of a father for a son. Then he addressed his people. "We need to go back, and as soon as we are able to. They will find us here if we wait too long to strike, Legolas is right. I know I cannot ask you to lay your lives on the line, but I do ask you that if there is anyone willing to come along, let him speak."

"Who is Bard?" Balin whispered to Thorin.

"An assassin," was what Thorin told him, then more loudly he said, "I will accompany any party that goes to Erebor with the intention to kill Smaug. He killed members of my family, endangered others and made slaves of my people. He will pay for his crimes."

"And what makes you think anyone would join you in this folly?" said a voice from the edge of the crowd. A tall, mistrusting man with dark hair walked into the fray. "You sent for me, Thranduil. Now I see why. You have obviously exhausted all other options." 

"You." Thranduil was surprised and confused to see him here. "You said you would be at the northern borders until winter came. I did exhaust all other options first. To ask you to join would be more than I could ask of you." He strode forward and held him by both shoulders, as though examining the mirage before him. "You look well, friend. Have you heard of what passed? Orcs entered these lands and took some of our own. We have one of them in custody, and I am afraid the rumors are true. Smaug lives."

"It was me who sent for Bard," Legolas told his father. Murmurs spread across the group at once. "I hope it was the right thing to do. I remember you telling me that he was an expert marksman."

"I was a sniper in the army, long ago," Bard conceded.

"Is your aim still true?" Thorin wondered.

"Who is this man?" Bard asked Thranduil tersely.

A sense of diplomacy fell over Thranduil, for he had not hoped to deal with Bard in front of so many people, let alone in front of Thorin. "This is Thorin, son of Thror Oakenshield. You might have heard of him."

Thorin stepped forward to shake Bard's hand, though he did not like him much. This was the man whom Thranduil had dallied with during their separation. He stood taller than Thorin and was threatening in his own right, and it bothered Thorin irrationally.

"You are the assassin?" asked Ori, who had only half an hour ago been discharged from the infirmary after he had kept going on about needing to be at this meeting—despite still looking green around the edges.

"I am not a fan of that word," Bard said, eyes studying Thorin from head to toe. "I prefer sharpshooter. And I _am_ quite good at it. I remember you, Oakenshield. We went to school together. You haven't changed much."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Thorin nodded. "I take it your feelings for Smaug mirror mine, then."

"I don't think that's possible, but if you're looking to bring him down, I warn you. If you threaten him, he will strike, and all of us will perish. So tell me of your intentions now, Thorin, and I can talk you out of it."

"Are you saying you think the best course is to leave him be?" Thorin wondered. 

Bard bowed his head. "No, it is not. But a head-on charge will only corner him and force him to do foolish things." He took in the company gathered around the fire. "But you mean business, do you not? I'm only a man who knows how to shoot a gun, I am no tactician. I cannot tell you what to do. I can only give you advice."

"So the trick, it seems," Balin said slowly, "would be to somehow lure Smaug out of the mines and out into the open?"

"To a spot where Bard would be able to take him out," Bombur concluded.

Thorin turned to Bard. "Where would you be able to?"

Bard let out a frustrated sound. "You aren't listening, Oakenshield! Hell bent on making everything worse, you lot. Do you think he will not suspect something? Smaug is a cunning man. He has not endured all these years for nothing."

"Then tell us what to do!" Thorin countered, equally frustrated with the man. "You want him dead too, don't you?"

"I want him out of my life. To me it's irrelevant whether he lives or dies."

"He'll be coming here eventually," Thranduil said.

"When?! You say he will, but I haven't seen the signs yet, _oh Thranduil_."

"Well," Thorin walked closer to Bard, invading the man's personal space, "perhaps we should just send him an engraved invitation to visit."

The tension between them was palpable, and apparently it was too much for Bard, who never liked confrontations much, even if he continued to end up in one. He huffed out in frustration, turned around and started pacing. "Is there no other way? If you are sure he will come here, why not ambush him? You have the higher ground; you know these woods. _I_ know these woods. No matter how many times Smaug may have studied them from his lofty abode, he will be at a distinct disadvantage here."

"After what we saw down in those mines, I'd say the chances of Smaug leaving the throne room and fortress he's built for himself are pretty slim," Bofur predicted. "You should have seen it," he turned to the people of Caledonia, "giant statues, forged in gold, dotted with gems. It's as if he was building a shrine to himself. Meanwhile, outside, the people are eating one another to stay alive. You're very lucky to have the leader you do. I hope you appreciate him."

"Has anyone considered asking Tauriel's..." Nori cleared his throat, "her significant other, if he might have a thought?"

"Would he have a thought worth listening to?" Thranduil quirked a brow. He detested Smaug, and he was concerned that these Orcs in their midst were too fickle, too easily swayed to go back, regardless of what they said; regardless of their own conscience. "Well, bring him. Bring Azog. I am interested to see what they have to say. But keep them apart at all times. I don't want them concocting a plan together, if they haven't already."

"He's lived under the ruling thumb of someone he loathes for years," Thorin shrugged. "You can bet he has some thoughts. But how willing will Azog, or any of them, be to return to Erebor, now that they've found freedom?"

\- - - - - 

"Please," Tauriel begged the guard standing outside her cell, "I need to check on Max. My _son._ He must be going crazy not knowing where I am."

The guard looked at her in disdain. "How frequently have you seen him, rat? He is fine." He wasn't about to allow a traitor to follow her own agenda and he kept his posture stiff and straight. The guard next to him seemed less resilient in the face of her plea, but followed his lead.

"He's four years old," she reminded them, rapidly losing what composure she had left. "Can you at least send someone to make sure he's all right?"

"He went home with Elrond and Arwyn when you didn't come by to pick him up after school," Legolas told her, entering the jail. "I let Elrond know that he might need to keep Max longer than just overnight. Arwyn's happy for the playmate. I've tried to avoid telling people what you've done. But I don't know how long it can remain a secret." 

"Thank you, Legolas," Tauriel told him, relief flooding through her. "I hope someday you can come to understand what I've done. It's all been for my family."

"I understand family," Legolas told her. "I have a family too. And you've endangered them, Tauriel. Fee could have died."

"I would have never let father harm him," Tauriel told him. "Father would not have harmed him. We just needed to get Thranduil's attention. You, of all people, should know how hard that can be."

"He trusted you." Thranduil emerged from the shadows. The tension in his jaw and coldness in his eyes caused her to pale. "You used his safety to further your agenda. You understand how serious an offense that is, do you not?" He had had enough experience with his sons disagreeing with him that her accusation passed by him easily. It was the curse of any father. "I am not here to place the blame." He stood still before her cell. "I will be honest with you, even if you don't deserve it. Decide yourself if you want to redeem yourself. We are going after Smaug. Anything you say that can be of help, I would like you to tell me."

"I'd like to do more than offer advice," she told him. "I want to go with you. I want him dead. I know I don't know my way around the mines. But Mil does. Send Thorin with us. None of us can truly rest at ease until Smaug is gone."

"Smaug wants Thorin. But I'm sure you want your son," Thranduil smiled without enjoying that statement, nor was his heart into it. He receded so that Legolas could continue the negotiations. He had only come here to see that she understood his thoughts of her. She had always valued his esteem, despite the things she had done, and perhaps enough of that was left for her to not consider betraying them again.

"Mil. He is your husband?" Legolas wondered.

"He is Max's father," Tauriel said simply, "and I love him. We were friends since we were four years old. People don't get married anymore, do they? Isn't commitment enough?" Her eyes met Legolas'. "I know you always hoped I would be yours. But you see, I never had room in my heart for anyone else, until Max came along."

Legolas scowled at the declaration. 

"If I go after Smaug," Tauriel told him, "and anything happens to me, I hope that you or Fili will care for Max."

Legolas leaned against the bars of the cell. "You come back for him," he said. "Azog wanted a truce. Perhaps, without Smaug..." He looked over his shoulder as if to ask Thranduil what next. 

The darkness in which the man had withdrawn remained silent. It was answer enough. Legolas turned back to Tauriel. "Please be honest with me. If we ensure him that you're alive and that this is your wish, can he be trusted? How loyal is he to Smaug?"

"He was loyal to Smaug only to stay alive and take care of his people. For protection," Tauriel told them. "When Smaug got delusions of grandeur and started building his shrine underground, nearly everyone began deserting him. There are so few loyal to him now, Thranduil. It's just a matter of getting to him."

"Why did you stay?" Thranduil's disembodied but confused voice asked. "If nobody sees him as a leader, why put up with his whims?"

"He has power," Azog spoke from his cell, "influence. Others listen when he speaks. And he's a very decisive leader. Most of us would have followed him to the ends of the earth. All that changed when he told us we needed to become cannibals to survive. On that day, many of us—myself included—began making plans to get out from under his rule."

Again Thranduil stepped forward, but for Azog's cell now. The guards that had stood before Tauriel earlier shifted uneasily under this unusual activity in the cells, not sure whether to stay or to go. They either leaned against the wall or stood straight, expecting orders. Nobody paid them attention.

"Why haven't you done it?" Thranduil wanted to know. "It is not our fight, but you brought it here into the woods and made it ours."

"Because," Azog told him, "the next thing Smaug plans to do is lay siege to Caledonia and take everything you have. I won't be a part of that."

"If Smaug were to reign, you would live here too," Thranduil reasoned. "Compared to your current lives, you would be living like gods." It was the first time he heard concrete plans of Smaug's threat towards Caledonia and that concerned him, but he needed something substantial to know he could trust this man—or at least enough to accept information or help in the downfall of the wretched man under the mountain. "My doctor tells me you drugged Fili when he was under your watch. He had very similar symptoms to a man poisoned by belladonna."

"Belladonna?" Legolas' attention was instantly drawn when hearing that word. "But belladonna is a deadly poison." Revulsion grew in his eyes. "Azog fed Fili belladonna?"

"True," Azog told them. "Smaug ordered it. I gave him just enough to make him a little sick, but obviously not enough to kill him. Diluted. I was being watched. I had to appear as if I were complying. You can ask the lad yourself. How is he doing now?"

"He's sleeping," Legolas told them. "He's feverish. The fever hasn't gone down yet. Dr. Bombadil is concerned that our drugs are too old to be effective anymore. His feet—well, he's going to need to stay off them for a few days."

"Do you have an herb garden?" Azog wondered. "We had no medicine, but we had an herbalist—Randi, Mil's sister. She learned the trade from her mother. She would tell you to mix some yarrow, elderberry flowers and peppermint in equal parts and steep it in water. She's done it before. Drink it hot. It's what we'd give our people for fever and infection."

"A tea?" wondered Thranduil. He nodded to Legolas, who disappeared to pursue it immediately. It needed not to be said that this mixture would be verified with Dr. Bombadil first. But the fact that Azog knew a medicine against nightshade poisoning from the front of his memory bothered him.

Thranduil sat down on the only bench in the quarter. He bid his guards to leave. Then he started, "Tell me what you know. Everything that could be useful. If your word is true, I give you mine that we'll see what we can do to establish a healthy trade between Erebor and Caledonia. But you need to be fully honest with me first. Has he got Dragonfire?"

"Firstly," Azog told him, "the tea is a fever remedy. I told you, I didn't give your son enough nightshade to make him dreadfully ill. His fever is from the infection in his feet. I do regret that. I was bidden to give his warm clothing, including his boots, to some of my men who needed them. Erebor isn't a safe place to be walking barefoot, although I did try to take him along the safer paths."

Azog sat back against the wall of his cell. "I believe that Smaug may have some missiles, but I have never seen them. No one has. Yet he does speak of them, much like preachers used to speak of the threat of hellfire back before the war. But even if he has them, I do not think he knows how to use them. He lacks the mechanical capacity. Short of causing a natural explosion, which would surely kill him as well, I do not think he would fire them. And, who knows if after all this time they are still viable?"

"What is his weakness?" posed Thranduil, who could not have heard better news despite knowing that Azog could also be playing into what he wanted to hear. "Does he have routines? Does he ever come out of the hill?"

"Greed," Azog answered, "and his pride. I cannot remember the last time he left the mines. He has a suite of rooms down there, which used to belong to one of the foremen and his family. He's reclusive and only allows certain people in to see him. There is only one entrance to his chamber and it's locked. I do have a key. It was taken by your guards when I was locked in here."

"And if we were to lock it from the outside?" Thranduil tipped his head. "If we made sure he was in there and we could prevent him from getting out again?" Admittedly, it wasn't the most lawful thing to do, having Smaug starve to death, but so wasn't the threat of Dragonfire and assault that was hanging over their heads. "Are you positive there is no way out of that chamber?"

"We cannot lock him in," Azog quickly explained. The key works in both directions. "But there are other ways of making sure he never comes out. A successful cave-in might seal him in for good. The explosion necessary to cause it, however...well, let's just say if there are still Dragonfire missiles down there, explosions are a very bad idea."

"I was considering caving in the hill atop him," Thranduil smiled humorlessly. "At what hours is he inside?"

"Smaug is _always_ inside,” Azog said. “He hasn't left the mines in years. His food is brought to him by one of the few men still loyal to him. But even that loyalty...well, it's questionable."

"We can't send a sniper there," said Thranduil to himself. Such an environment was no place for an assassin. He breathed out, sat back and observed the man in the cell. "But Mil could do it, couldn't he?" In his head was starting to form a plan.

"Mil?" Tauriel's head shot up. "Thranduil, I'm sure you feel he needs to atone. We all do. But I want Max to know his father. It's a suicide mission!"

A brief silence followed.

Then, Azog said, "I'll do it."

Thranduil looked at him for a long time. Then he inclined his head, procured a key ring from his pockets and opened the cell. "I don't plan for it to be a suicide mission. Do you know the way? Are you positive?"

He was taking a risk, one that Thorin might praise but Thranduil was already condemning himself for. He extended a hand. "Come. We need to talk. And you need to meet someone."

\- - - - - 

A sound woke Bilbo from his slumber. At first he wasn't sure that he'd heard it, and he'd almost fallen back to sleep when it came again—a whimper and hurried whispering. It came from Fili's bed.

"Fili?" he slowly pulled himself to a sitting position, which wasn't terribly easy with one arm slinged and secured to his body. He ached all over. "Are you all right?"

It was clear that Fili was not, and Bilbo found this out when he approached his bed.

"The horses..." Fili whispered, reaching for Bilbo's hand, "they're screaming. They won't stop. Make them stop, Bilbo." His eyes glittered with fever. The hand, when Bilbo took it in his own, was hot and dry. Hadn't Fili been given medication to bring that fever down hours ago? Clearly it wasn't working. Where was the doctor? He was alone in the medical ward with Fili and a sleeping Dwalin and Kili.

"Are you in pain?" Bilbo asked the blond, sitting down gingerly on the side of his bed. "What can I get you, Fili?" 

"M'cold," Fili squeezed his hand. "The horses..."

Bilbo understood. He'd been there when Fili had chased after his abductors and cut the tendons on those horses' legs. He'd heard the screaming. It had been horrible. Bilbo would never forget the look on Fili's determined face as he came to his rescue. 

"You've already got three blankets over you," Bilbo noted, touching Fili's forehead with his own. "You're so warm, Fili. I should go get the doctor. You're talking out of your mind—"

"No," Fili insisted, pulling at his hand. "Stay with me. Please."

At that moment, Legolas burst in.

"He's not improving," Bilbo told the impatient man as he rushed past. "We need to—"

But Legolas had already gone into the room where Dr. Bombadil kept his drugs and herbs. A sound of jars rattling and medicine boxes being shoved aside soon emerged from the very same room, followed by the creaking of a door and the voice of another man.

"What is going on here?" asked Dr. Bombadil, sleep-tousled and unamused. "Legolas? What is the meaning of this?"

"Herbs," he said back, "do you have them? Where? I need you to tell me of the toxicity of combining yarrow and elderberry, and mint. And so you think they could help Fee?"

Tom Bombadil looked for all the world as if he'd been dragged directly from bed—most likely because he had been. He considered Legolas' request. "It does sound like an old wives' remedy for fever. Easily enough checked upon," he said, pulling an old, thick book down from a nearby shelf. He paged through it for a few moments until his pointer finger came to rest on the passage he was looking for. "Yes. Peppermint, yarrow and elderberry flower. One tablespoon each, seeped into a tea with water and drank while hot."

"Can you make it?" Bilbo wanted to know, overhearing the conversation.

"Oh, well," the doctor tarried, "I'm sure I would, but I haven't any elderberry flower, I'm afraid. We never use it for medicine. I have no idea where to find it. Maybe there is a substitute somewhere in here?" He started leafing again.

"Is it somewhere in town though, you think?" Legolas asked him. "Tell me what to look for. I'll go get it for you."

"They're white," Bilbo told him. "Five-pointed and small. They grow in clusters, like a bouquet. I think I might have seen some in your meadow the other day."

"Can you take me there?" Legolas suddenly had a great deal more respect for Bilbo's knowledge of gardening, and of his presence.

Bilbo nodded.

Together they rushed through the woods, past house and fence, to a pasture at the edge of town. Bilbo hadn't been outside much, so Legolas wondered how he had come to see it there. "It is a matter of time, isn't it?" he guessed while delicately archiving several flowers in a waist pocket and starting on the way back.

"He's my brother," Legolas said. Despite Thorin showing up and telling everyone by sheer presence alone that Fili did not belong in the house of Thranduil, Legolas would continue to look at him as a brother. "He should have never been taken and used in that manner. That scumbag Azog...and Tauriel..." He bit away the complaint in order to pick up the pace. Tauriel had played them all. He just hoped she was honest when she said she didn't want this to happen to Fili, because things would change for her if she were not.

Dr. Bombadil made them wait twenty minutes for the extract to be done. He took his time following the instructions in the book as close as he could, measuring each ingredient before it was added. Meanwhile, they could hear Fili's fever throes getting worse. Legolas had an impatient temper, asking the man every few minutes if it was done yet. Whenever Fili would groan, he'd look at Dr. Bombadil accusingly as if wanting to tell him it was his fault Fili was suffering.

At long last, Dr. Bombadil took his draft and walked with it to the patient.

Fili wouldn't drink.

One sniff of the concoction and its herbal smell had his mind going back to the nightshade-laced liquid that Azog had made him ingest the day prior. "No," he whispered, turning his head away. "No, no, no."

"You _will_ drink this, Fee!" Legolas cried out, exasperated, "even if I have to sit on you!"

"Your people skills are abysmal," Bilbo noted. "I think you get that from your father. Give me that mug, and help him sit up, will you?" 

Fili could do little to protest as Dr. Bombadil and Legolas helped him into a mostly upright position.

"This isn't poison," Bilbo smiled, sitting down next to Fili. "It's an herbal medicine for your fever. I made it. It's safe. I know you trust me, Fili. I know you want to get well so you can get back to teaching those wonderful children." Fili's eyes cracked open at this. Then, Bilbo leaned in conspiratorially. "It will make the horses stop screaming," he whispered. "This I promise."

"All right," Fili agreed, voice hoarse. His hand was shaking so badly, he couldn't hold the cup, so Bilbo steadied it for him. 

"There now," Bilbo said soothingly, eyes moving to Legolas, hoping he was learning something from his actions. "I know it's not terribly delicious, but you have to finish it if you want the fever to go away."

Fili's stomach hitched a few times, but he managed to drink the mug full of medicine. "Bilbo," he reached for the other man. "Stay with me?" he insisted.

"I will, Fili," the curly haired man assured him. "I'll sit right here next to you."

"No," Fili clarified, patting the bed next to him. "Here."

Bilbo's eyes widened a bit at the request. He didn't mind. Not really. Not at all. He had felt a strong pull towards Fili right away. He supposed it began when he watched Fili's blue eyes dancing with joy as he watched the children playing, and intensified as he showed him around the town, taking such pride in it all. "All right," he readily agreed, nodding to the other two, who slid Fili a bit to the side so that Bilbo could slip in next to him and get comfortable on his back. He wrapped his good arm around Fili's and the blond readily lay his head on Bilbo's shoulder and put his arm around Bilbo's waist.

Bilbo wasn't used to physical contact. He'd rather avoided it most of his life. But he found that despite the heat coming off Fili that he didn't mind this so much. "I'm right here," he told Fili, hand stroking the hair he'd wanted to touch since the moment they'd met. It wasn't terribly clean, not since his ordeal in Erebor, but Bilbo didn't care. Having Fili in his arms felt right.

It took a few moments for Fili to stop trembling, but he did, relaxing into the hold. It became evident to Bilbo that perhaps Fili too was starving for physical attention. Maybe even for love. Love? That was preposterous. But as Fili's breathing evened out in sleep and Bilbo felt the same pull, he didn't think it was quite such a ridiculous notion after all.


	21. Don't Let Me Be An Idiot Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next morning in the infirmary, Ori tells Fili and Kili about the plan to kill Smaug. A group heads back into the heart of Erebor.

None of the wounded would know in the morning of the things agreed on in the night. One by one, they woke to a sunny early morning—earlier for some than for others—and were only shortly examined before being passed a breakfast plate that would have been able to make a healthy man salivate.

Kili was, uncharacteristically, last of the ward to open his eyes. But then the group of people sharing his ward had been changed overnight. Ori was talking about something to Dwalin, and well, that seemed to be pretty much it. He groaned. "What _time_ is it?" 

As soon as his memories caught up, Kili added to that with a groggy lilt and from under caveman hair, "What _happened?_ "

Fili sat nearby on a chair, his bandaged feet propped up on a fat pillow on the floor. A plate stood in front of him, nearly untouched, while he nibbled on a slice of apple. "Hi," he smiled at Kili. "What a strange morning. I must have had a rough night. I woke up and Bilbo had gotten into bed with me. Apparently I was talking out of my head. I'm so embarrassed. I hope I didn't say anything too awful."

From on the bed, Kili allowed his eyes to focus on Fili. He hadn't seen him. But he quickly closed his eyes and tried to recall the events linking yesterday to here, in the infirmary, now. "Uh," he said unintelligibly, "I don't remember you talking out of your head. I remember going into the mountain to look for you, but that's all, sorry." Only once he said it did he realize how lucky they must have been, for he had definitely been captured, like Fili, and this bed was decidedly not hostile territory. The frown left his face. "Are you all right?"

"I'm tired," Fili admitted, "and my head's pounding. But I suppose that is to be expected. The worst is, I'm not allowed to use my feet for a few days until they've healed. Dr. Bombadil says there's a wheelchair somewhere in storage and he wants me in it. _Ugh,_ " he frowned. "Ori certainly bounced back quickly, didn't he?"

"Don't know how he does it," Kili grinned faintly. The fall and whatever had happened while he was unconscious had given Kili a few decent bruises, one of which was at the back of his head and was currently making lying on a pillow rather uncomfortable. "You're here though, that's more important. They must have treated you really bad. I can't see it from here—what happened to your feet?" 

His eyes remained on Fili's. He had the kindest look, Kili thought. Fili had gone through so much and yet here he was, while he ought to be resting. Kili didn't want to give up that look for anything, so his fragmented short-term memories only now brought back the other fact. "Why was Bilbo in your bed?"

"When I got taken to Erebor, Azog took all my clothes and gave them to his men. He let me keep my jeans, thank god. Then he paraded me all over the city, down into the mines. I saw Smaug. He's got red eyes, Kili. Creepy," he shivered, despite the warmth of the room.

He picked up another piece of apple and took a bite. "Bilbo told me this morning that I asked him to get in bed with me last night. I was feverish," he muttered, not meeting Kili's eyes. "I suppose I was scared, and everyone else was sleeping."

"Ah." It upset Kili that he hadn't been awake when Fili might have needed him. "I heard Azog poisoned you," he whispered. "Ori is really bad at shutting up when others in the room should be sleeping. I overheard. I'm sorry. We could have got you into a bigger mess if it hadn't turned out the way it did." And he still didn't understand why he was in a clean bed instead of a patch of dust and dirt. "I thought I might have lost you already." Kili pursed his lips. "I didn't like that idea."

Surrounded by a mound of white sheets, he looked younger than his age. Kili stretched out a hand for Fili. This kind of life, this need for survival, was something he had grown up with and understood well, but it brought him no joy. Worse was when it endangered Fili.

"I'm tenacious," Fili gave a half smile, grasping Kili's hand in his own and squeezing. "That's what Thranduil says, anyway."

Kili snorted. "Because he's your dad." He caught the scent of apple hanging in the air around them and searched for the source.

"Do you want the rest of this?" Fili offered Kili his plate. "Please."

Kili was caught quite suddenly by an unexpected longing. He wanted to hold the man before him close but, more than that, he wanted to make sure Fili would be safe from here on. It was an insult to his vigilance—admittedly less active since he had become no longer responsible for bringing food to the table at night—that they'd been able to steal Fili away. "Azog will pay," he promised. "I don't know how, but I'll remember what he did to you, Fee. There will come a day that he's going to regret what he did to you."

Fili tilted his head to the side. "He's here," he told Kili. "He's come to make amends, to help take out Smaug. He and Uncle and Thranduil and the rest have been planning all night."

That news proved too much for Kili, who sat up in his bed in barely contained anger. "He's here? That bastard is here, and they're talking to him like he can be reasoned with?! Where is Thorin? I need to talk to him."

"Kili!" Ori was next to him in seconds after realizing his friend was awake. He smiled at Fili while starting to check Kili for injuries and making sure he calmed down, much to Kili's dismay.

"Stop that. Ori!"

"What? You've been out all night. Longer than your brother, you know. You had me worried."

Fili watched Ori's concern for Kili with a bemused smile on his face. It was obvious that the redhead had a serious crush on his little brother. It was endearing and encouraging, but at the same time, Fili felt a twinge a jealousy. "Dr. Bombadil said earlier that everyone reacts differently to drugs," he said to Ori. "Kili hasn't been exposed to much in his life. It hit him hard. He's lucky to have you looking out for him." He reached for a book from the pile of them on the table next to his bed. Blindly, not looking to see what he'd picked, he opened it and pretended to read as they interacted.

But that was not what Kili wanted Fili to do. He turned to Ori only because Ori didn't deserve to be second to anyone, even if Kili mostly wanted to be spending time with Fili alone at that moment, and for them not to have to filter their words. But for Ori, Kili could wait.

It was from his best friend that he received a full report, as chronological as Ori could get it. And so Kili found out about the events and their rescue, as well as what their carelessness had gotten them into. Dwalin eventually laughed. It turned out that Ori had promised him half an hour ago that he was only going to take a few minutes.

"Do you think their plan sounds reasonable?" Fili asked. "Is Thranduil on board? What about Thorin?" He had seen Azog's change of heart for himself, over time, but that didn't necessarily mean he totally trusted him, or Tauriel.

"Oh, I've only been there while they were still deciding. None of us know the full plan. I suppose that's because in the case that one of us gets captured again, there will be nothing to tell. But there's this handsome fellow named Bard,"—everyone in the room knew he was into men, and if Fili didn't, Kili would inform him quickly enough; which was why Ori dared speak so openly—,"who is definitely in on the plan. Legolas said they might be looking for people without keloids. Apparently some people might be immune to the Dragonfire. Either way, I think they're going to involve Azog too. It sounds pretty terrible, but we've got his whole family in custody, so I don't think he's going to do something awful."

Ori shared a look with Kili. If they were looking for men without scars...

"Should I talk to them?" whispered Kili.

"I cannot bear the idea of you going back there!" Fili told him, paling noticeably. "No one is immune to Dragonfire, because no one is immune to burning!" He pulled the blanket behind him more tightly over his shoulders. "This Bard character...I know him. He and Thranduil have a past. And there's no love lost between him and Smaug, that's for certain."

"But if Kili can somehow help—" Ori began.

"How do they think he's immune?" Fili wondered. "Answer me that."

"No scars, right?" Ori thought aloud, making sure to keep Dwalin out of the conversation, only because if he could hear, then others could too. "Maybe it's only the fallout. Thranduil has no keloids either. I'm almost one hundred percent positive that whatever they're planning, he is going to be on the team."

Kili looked pale. "I don't want to go back. That's selfish, isn't it? I've seen what it is, and I hope never to see it again. Mom would have hated it like this."

"Well..." Fili cocked his head, "it's only natural that he shouldn't have any burns or scars. He wasn't near when the bombs fell, were you? You were one of the lucky ones, like most of the people here in Caledonia. I hope whatever Father and Uncle Thorin decide to do, that they don't go off half-cocked and angry. Smaug—well, he's so cold and calculating. He has to know they're coming. There are surely safeguards set up along the way to protect him."

Kili lay back down in bed. He closed his eyes. "I don't want to think about this now." Too many ways in which he could lose Thorin—too many ways in which they could stand to lose everything. They had come from a bad place, found a paradise, only to have hell end up right in their backyard. For now, Kili wanted to think for a moment that he was safe. 

"Mom had them, you know," he whispered, because of course he couldn't leave the subject now that it had been broached. "They were blue too. On her neck. They were different though. Not raised. More like ink splotches on her skin."

"She did?" Fili smiled. This one, small thing suddenly made him feel much closer to the mother he'd lost so long ago. Kili, because his eyes were closed, did not see Fili's tears, but Ori did. 

"C-can I get you anything, Fili?" Ori asked. "It's not like you can get up and get it yourself."

"No...I—I think I'm all right. I'd like to get back into bed, but I don't think you can do that by yourself."

Kili watched him. "Well, Bilbo is in yours now, isn't he?" He wondered if Fili would pick up what he was trying to say. Ori certainly did.

"It's only fair, I suppose," Fili nervously fiddled with his blanket. "I guess I really kept him hopping last night. I feel awful about that."

"And you wouldn't want to wake him, would you?" Although he didn't mean to manipulate, Kili secretly quite liked getting Fili where he wanted him.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Ori sighed, throwing his hands up and walking back to Dwalin.

"No," Fili whispered, closing the book on his lap. "Of course not." What he wanted more than anything was simply to burrow under the covers and hide his face from everyone. 

What could have been a horribly awkward moment was interrupted by someone clearing his throat. A tall dark-haired man stepped into the ward. "Hello, Fee," he said with a smile.

"Elrond, hello." Fili brightened. 

"I'm sorry to disrupt your recovery," the older man said, "but Arwyn and Max insisted I bring these to you immediately after dropping them off at their classroom. They spent all last night making them for you, after they heard you'd been taken to the infirmary." He handed a few papers to Fili. "They miss you. I won't stay and disturb you further." He gave a nod and left as quickly as he'd come.

With a smile, Fili studied the papers, mostly drawings. One, in particular caught his eye. "I think this is supposed to be you," he said to Kili. "It's a picture of me, Legolas and you," he handed the drawing of three stick figures, all the same height, one with dark hair, over to Kili. It was signed _Max_ at the bottom. 

"Kili," Fili said quietly, "I don't think I'm going to want to leave here."

The drawing passed between them with care not to crumple the paper. Kili looked at the drawing Tauriel's son had made for them, and he felt bad for wishing such bad things about his family. Max was to blame for none of it. What his mother and grandfather did was by his design, and it definitely was not his fault.

"I don't either," he whispered in reply, still hidden among his sheets. "I don't want this boy to be forced to leave either. He shouldn't be out there, especially not in Erebor. But neither of us are sure we get to stay, are we? I'm still a guest, and his family is imprisoned." By now he was sure Fili wasn't going to join him. Kili couldn't blame him, his feet had to be killing him. "Do you want me to call Dr. Bombadil to get you a bed?"

"Did you ever wish you could just get up and run away?" Fili wondered, still looking down at the pile of drawings. "Just keep running without regard to where you end up—just to end up in a place where you don't know anyone, and no one expects anything from you except what you feel like giving?" He sighed. "I guess that's just my inability to use my feet talking," he chuckled a bit. "Don't listen to me. This is where I belong. I'd be a fool to want to be anywhere else, right?" He sniffled, "The kids alone are worth staying for, Kili."

"It's not the kids I'd be staying for," admitted the brunet. He retreated further in the tangle of sheets, ignorant of Dwalin and Ori but talking in a whisper nonetheless. "Except it's exactly the place where I'd run off to. Out there isn't much. There aren't friends or family if I'd run off, only enemies. You're not a fool, you've just never seen it."

"I can't imagine anyone wanting to be your enemy, Kili." Fili wrinkled his brow. "You're like a ray of sunshine wherever you go. A fresh breeze that brings with it a smell of all my favorite things."

Kili smiled. "What are your favorite things?"

"Flowers," Fili smiled softly, "vanilla, clean hair...and crayons."

At this point, Dr. Bombadil swung by to check on his patients and, which much cajoling, helped Fili into bed next to his brother.

"You do realize," Kili said obnoxiously, after the doctor had departed, "that before I came here, I hadn't washed my hair with soap for about a decade, right?" It was probably why it was so unruly. Then again, Fili seemed to have the same problem, if he had to braid it like that. Kili didn't care; he liked the braids like that. He reminded Fili of vanilla and clean hair, and crayons. It made him warm inside. "I'm sure there's someone here you would stick around for, right? Not the kids, I mean. Thranduil is like a father, isn't he? And Legolas. Maybe," he wondered, "this could be your home, the place you could return to after you've wandered far and wide."

"It's more than that," Fili tried to explain. "More than Legolas and Thranduil. This entire town is like family to me. And I will admit, there's more than just a slight fear of the unknown involved. Maybe I'm complacent. I don't know. I'd be happier with you," he entreated. "Then it won't be so awkward, will it?"

Of course, that embarrassed Kili far more than his consciousness about crying did. He mumbled something to himself, ignored Ori pointedly for any comments his friend might make and shifted into a cuddling position opposite Fili. "Should I turn around?" he wondered.

"Either way's fine," Fili told him. "However you're most comfortable." He leaned in and whispered, "I just want to be close to you, Kili."

Kili's face grew visibly red at that. He squirmed around until he was comfortable, which turned out to be huddled against Fili's chest with one arm over his waist.

Ori scraped his throat, and Kili knew that it had to be inappropriate. He pulled the arm back, but he couldn't get comfortable in any other way, so in defeat he tugged up the sheets over them and returned the arm where it had been. Fili's skin was pleasantly warm, and they fit perfectly. It set loose a flutter of bugs in his stomach.

Kili hoped it was not how Bilbo had shared the bed. Hidden under white hospital linen, he quietly kissed Fili's chest.

"I can't bear to see you cry," Fili told him under the privacy of the sheet. It was like they were in their own little world. Fili swiped gently at the skin below Kili's eyes with his thumb—first one and then the next. "If you stay with me, I'll make sure you never feel like crying again, Kili."

He leaned over and kissed the top of Kili's head, taking a deep whiff. "My brother," he whispered. "Thranduil always said that I was luckier than most. I think he's right about that."

As natural as that, Kili felt like he belonged. He pulled himself closer against Fili's chest, closed his eyes, and breathed in. His mother had told him to follow his heart. He wasn't sure how many more chances at that he'd get, now that they were thinking of war against Erebor. Things were about to change. Funny thing how following your heart could still be so terrifying. "I love you," he whispered between just the two of them. Kili was sure of it.

Fili sniffled, pulling him into the circle of his arms. "Me too," he whispered. "I love you too, Kili."

Ori had once told Kili that these things were not supposed to be romantic, but Kili only felt warm and yet excited in the embrace. He sneaked another small kiss against Fili's chest before nuzzling close, careful of his injuries. "When you're feeling up to it," he whispered, "I'd like to spend some time with you without anyone else."

"Yes," Fili agreed. "Somewhere private." His hand caressed Kili's back, his hair. "People won't understand this."

"Probably not." Kili was aware that as brothers, things were different for them. He chose not to think too much about that right now. "But they're not changing my mind. If anything, I'll pretend I don't know what they're talking about. But I'm following my heart, just you know it."

Fili's frame relaxed visibly. "You're pretty wonderful, you know that?" 

He was silent for a bit, and Kili realized that he'd fallen asleep. He kept his arms wrapped around Fili's frame for a minute longer, simply relishing the idea of being there, so close to him. At long last he loosened his grip for Fili to be more comfortable and closed his eyes too.

\- - - - -

Thorin stopped by later that morning. His stomach did a flip, seeing the two asleep in such close proximity. He wasn't sure if his gut was twisting in apprehension or in joy. Turning to Thranduil, he whispered, "Should we move one of them to his own bed?"

"Later," replied Thranduil, who looked at his injured son and only saw him peacefully asleep. There was no call to unduly stress him, even if they had come to pay them a visit. "Let's close off the ward for guests for now. I didn't expect you to be right about this, you know," he admitted. "They both need the rest."

He guided Thorin back out of the ward, looked once at Dwalin and Ori, who had most certainly heard and didn't bear the expression of people who didn't know what was going on. What was kinder was that they didn't seem to mind, either. Thranduil put a finger against his lips as if to tell not to repeat a word of what they might have heard, not unkindly.

"Should we tell them?" 

Sitting down on a bench just outside the room, Thranduil looked at the floor. "We're leaving soon," he said. "They have the right to know. But I don't—" _want to worry them_. The enormity of what was passing down was sinking in at last.

"We could die," Thorin voiced what they were both skirting around. "We could die trying to do this. And yet it has to be done. To protect Caledonia, and the world, from that monster. It's far too late now for Erebor."

"I fear that if we tell them too soon, they will insist on coming with us," whispered Thranduil. "We must tell them, but I don't know the right time for it." He brushed a thumb over Thorin's cheek and smiled sadly, ghosting away again. "Are you positive?" he asked. "A large part will depend on your success."

"Fili couldn't possibly come." Thorin closed his eyes against the welcome contact. "Even in a few days, when he's given permission to walk, he won't be up to the task. And Kili...I'm sworn to protect him, Thranduil. Now more than ever. I would never send him into a danger such as this. He's too kind for this world. I say we stick with me, Bard, and no more than two others. Bofur and Gandalf were working on some sort of electronic explosive device when last I saw them."

"I know," said Thranduil. "Legolas will want to be a part of the team. I can't shut him out. Do you think only Bofur or Gandalf would be able to use the device? Either that or they're both coming along, if you have faith that we need them with us."

"Gandalf? Come with us?" Thorin chuckled. "Goodness, no. He's far too old, Thranduil. His usefulness is all up here," Thorin tapped his temple. "He's already got some ideas about improving your power station here in Caledonia. But Bofur, absolutely. If he's willing to come, he'd be invaluable. I'll speak with him."

At that moment, Legolas appeared. "When do you want to depart for Erebor?" he asked his father, straight to the point. "We should not wait too long..." But his words faded off as his gaze wandered to the plate glass window to the medical ward. He could clearly see Fili and Kili's sleeping situation. 

Wisely, he did not say anything.

If Thranduil saw it, he didn't comment on it. "Tonight. As fast as we can. The longer we wait, the more chance he has to come up with a plan. This needs to be over in days, not weeks. Hours, if it's up to me. Do you agree with Bard, Thorin and myself, as well as Bofur for the technical operations?" They had better soldiers, though several had gotten injured in the previous days. And taking Tauriel or Azog along was far too risky.

Thranduil rose and nodded to Thorin, then walked away from the ward. "I say we leave them to sleep. Legolas, can you pull together a team for backup in Caledonia? When they wake, I want one of them to inform these two of the plan." With an apology writ in his eyes, he said to Thorin, "I cannot say goodbye to Fili in person. He'd only find a way to follow me."

"I cannot go to Erebor?" Legolas seemed surprised and disappointed by Thranduil's decision. "Forgive me for being blunt, but sending both of you is...well, it's dangerous."

"You're going with us, but you'll instruct the others first," said his father. "Why would sending us both be more dangerous than if it's only one?"

"You know why," Legolas told him. "Don't make me spell it out for you."

Thranduil's jaw tensed. "I don't suppose I need to spell out that it'll be a lot harder to get either of us if we're backing each other up than if we're getting separated. I could leave you behind in Caledonia, if that's what you're applying for."

"Or, you could do something irrational and get one, or both, of you killed," Legolas huffed air out his nose. "Fine. I'm not going to try to sway you. You always get your way anyhow." And off he stomped.

"Well, he's certainly got you figured out, hasn't he?" Thorin smiled knowingly.

"Let's say the apple doesn't fall far." With his chin raised but his eyes concerned, Thranduil watched as his son left their company. "I keep doubting whether we are doing the right thing. This...it doesn't help. Come, let's gather the others."

What remained unspoken was how little time they had. Neither of them had slept that night, which meant that in order for them to be remotely effective, they needed a timed nap. They also needed to brief people, then make it to the mountain as soon after dark as they dared. Many things could go wrong. In fact, Thranduil expected that at least one or two things would. He just hoped they would not involve his sons or Thorin.

Thranduil allowed Thorin to follow him home and into his bed. He undressed to his underwear before finding the warmth beneath the covers, making sure to set the alarm clock for two hours from then.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep," he admitted.

"Come here." Thorin lay on his back and held his arms out to the blond. "Let's see if it's easier if we lie here as Kili and Fili were."

They huddled together under the blankets like what they were doing was a secret. Thranduil was fairly sure at least Legolas knew though, and Kili definitely did. His thumb rubbed against Thorin's back. "Do not die out there," said he in damp breaths against Thorin's temple, closing his eyes. "I will kill you if you don't come back."

"I love you," Thorin told him. "I want the world to know. I can't bear to lose you. Not again. When I think of all those years I wasted in hating you..." He yawned. "I was an idiot. Please don't let me be an idiot tonight."

"Live and tell the world tomorrow," promised Thranduil, who longed now to spend their time in bed quite differently, although he knew it would not be wise. He kissed Thorin's nose, then his lips, then pulled away to get comfortable for sleep. "I love you too," he whispered, for Thorin needed to hear it while Thranduil could still tell him. He had a bad feeling about their plans.

When the alarm began to beep some time later, neither of them had even realized they'd fallen asleep. Neither was terribly well rested, either.

"Ugh," Thorin groaned. "I'd nearly forgotten what an alarm clock sounded like. It was one of the few positive things about losing electricity."

Thranduil was no less accustomed to the device though, which led Thorin to believe that being on time wasn't an integral part of living in Caledonia either. He made it through the motions of splashing cold water on his face, getting dressed and whipping up a quick meal. But he only gave Thorin ten minutes to enjoy it before saying, "Come."

They left Caledonia behind on a concealed path that led to a smaller settlement underground. Great mechanical doors shut the place for anyone but those who had the right key, and stairs descended further into the ground, until the only light they had came from small red gas bulbs.

The narrow corridor eventually widened in a maze of tunnels. Thranduil knew which ones to take, and he took Thorin's hand to make sure the man did not get lost by accident whilst leading him to a large circular hall in which several others had already taken their place.

"Thorin!" Bofur raised a hand and waved at the man from where he sat next to Gandalf. "Come have a look at what we've made."

A pair of what appeared to be remote control cars sat on top of a table in front of the two men.

"You've been playing with toys?" Thorin asked.

"So to speak," Bofur's smile didn't waver. "It is my life's work, after all. These cars, for example. They're my design. I could control one in my sleep, if I had to. Gandalf here added a little extra something _under the hood._ "

"Explosives," the old man said, adjusting his cap. "Not a huge charge, of course, but enough to kill a person from six feet away...or to cause a cave-in underground."

"They mean they're going to be radio-controlling these cars into the mountain," said Thranduil.

"Yes, well..." Bofur took his cue to walk up to a large table in the center, used before as a campaign strategy table and never having lost its oaken strength. He rolled out a large piece of cloth-like paper. The lines wobbled across the surface because of the weave. He pointed his index finger at a location marked with an 'x'. "We start here. It's a backup device, actually. If all goes wrong, you're going to leave the cars there and make sure you get away from there as fast as you can. But we don't actually have them equipped with cameras. Wasn't able to round up the correct supplies, sorry."

Gandalf stepped forward. His statuesque form towered over the table, making the piece of furniture look smaller than it was. He was without a doubt the most relaxed of the company. Whereas the others were visibly tense, he held a pipe in his hand and puffed contentedly. It had to be a different batch than Bilbo's; the tobacco only strengthened Gandalf's confidence. "However, we have installed sensors, so we are not entirely hopeless. These cars will continue to drive until we detonate them. But as they're not very precise, someone needs to get them into the heart as far as possible." He jotted his pipe down on the map on another 'x'. "Preferably right here."

"Which is where Smaug is?"

"Which is exactly where we think Smaug is."

"Shouldn't be too hard, right?" Bofur downplayed.

"The fact still remains that a door with a lock lies between us and that mark," Thorin reminded them all. "And Azog has the key around his neck."

"Then we take the key," Bofur shrugged, "or we take him with us. Can't say I'm overly fond of that second option, mind you." He looked around the group accusingly. "Why hasn't anyone mentioned this key to me before?"

Thranduil stared at the map. "Because we didn't know. Where?"

Despite Azog's change of heart and apparent desire to defect, Thorin would have been happy to take him along and have the man be trapped deep underground, surrounded for all eternity by caved-in stone, with nothing but the sound of his sobs for company. But he did not voice these thoughts.

"It's been twenty years since I was down in those mines," he said, "and yet when I went inside, it was as if no time has passed. They survived the bombs, and the fallout—probably due to their depth. That red-eyed bastard is using his people for little more than slave labor. Only his death will set them free."

"The plan is easy," shrugged Bofur—who had the liberty of saying it, as he would only be delivering them to the entrance—and circled the entrance with a marker. "There's no backup plan. I mean, we do what needs to be done. If things change, we don't know enough of the situation to determine a Plan B. It's every man for himself. We get in, bury Smaug under a pile of rubble, and we get out before people know we were there. In the case that we fail or if he's not there, Thorin and Thranduil will carry one of the guns we salvaged from last night. The others will be armed with knives." He looked up. "Questions?"

"What about Bard?" Gandalf asked Thranduil. "Your assassin; Will he be joining us?"

"He is resting," said Thranduil. "He is awake in the night and asleep during the day. We will involve him as soon as we need to. It won't be long. He knows of this place."

"A gifted assassin, you said," Thorin reminded them all. "We won't want to leave him behind. He could make a real difference in our chances for success."

"He is better at this than all of us combined. Also, unfortunately, more reluctant."

"Why is he reluctant? He's got the skills and training," Thorin reminded him. "And he's got a reason to fight—three children, correct?"

"Which is why he doesn't want to." Taking a seat at the edge of the table, Thranduil looked resigned. "The business of my people doesn't matter to him. He can make a home anywhere. He only helps us because he has a debt to settle for his youngest. She's got asthma, courtesy of the Dragonfire. I'll be sending him into the fray because he's good at what he does and because we provide medicine to a sick child whenever she needs it. Don't antagonize him, please. His being here hangs by a silver thread."

As if summoned, the last shadow emerged from the dark. "Thranduil," said Bard, as if not expecting him here. "Brief me. I will have this over with as soon as we can make it."

He listened attentively to Bofur's instructions, made some practical amendments and eventually ended up shaping the plan to his experiences. Bofur was eager for the knowledge, but Legolas, who had found himself a more prominent location next to his father, rolled his eyes, plainly uncharmed by Bard.

\- - - - -

They meant to be swift, yet they did not reach the entrance point until an hour after sunset. "The key," whispered Bofur to Thorin. He frowned. "I see no lock. Nor, as a matter of fact, a door."

Thorin raised one eyebrow and reached into his shirt, extracting the key Azog had given them. "Do you have the flashlight?" he asked Bard.

"Aye," the man pulled out the implement, which contained the last of Caledonia's D-type batteries, and clicked the switch on, keeping it aimed carefully at the ground.

"Shine it over here, towards me," Thorin directed. "There is a spot here in the wall; you'd miss it if you didn't know where to...ah, _there,_ he gestured for them all to move closer, indicating the nearly invisible keyhole. "Same place it was the other day."

"We came in through a different path," said Legolas absently, but he refused to elaborate on it. There was no other entrance but the main one, so everyone knew he had to be lying and had probably found the door—the key to which he hadn't had—opened by Thorin before him.

Thranduil threw him a look to stop his babbling. He was the first to enter the dark, following Thorin pushing the large and impossibly heavy stone slab aside. Only one who had been raised in Erebor knew how to do that. It had Thranduil smile to himself. He ignored the accusing gaze of Bard long enough for the huntsman to return his focus back on the mission.

"Hold this," Bard issued the order, procuring a rope from his pocket for nobody to get lost. "Keep the machines ready and follow me." He took in a deep breath. Bard hated the mountain, and the man inside even more.

"Smaug expects us to come," Thorin whispered in the dark as they trod down the pathway leading to his chambers. "You have to know that, above all else. Be prepared for anything."

"I don't think he does," Bard replied from the pitch black of the corridors surrounding them. They had no light to guide their path, and the only sounds coming from the hill were deep, deep down, like men were still excavating deeper into Erebor's heart. He had become attuned to his hearing so well that he was sure nobody followed them. "Nobody has defied him, not since the war. I don't think his eyes are on our small group, because he doesn't think we're a threat. Not here on his grounds, at least."

All natural light had died out by the time they caught sight of a flicker of flame in the distance. Bard stopped. "We need to be quiet soon. Does everyone know what to do?"

In the dim light, unseen by the others, Thorin reached out for Thranduil's arm. He ran his fingertips down its length until he was able to interlace them with Thranduil's. "For our boys," he whispered in his ear. "For a better future."

"Make it out alive," was all that Thranduil whispered in reply, before they proceeded and their contact was lost. 

Bofur and Legolas took out the vehicles as quietly as they could. They didn't yet place them on the floor, but they made sure the machines were activated and ready to be dropped at the first sign of danger. They advanced in a sneaking fashion from there on out, allowing Thorin to move to the front and lead the way.

Thranduil kept looking over his shoulder. Nobody was following them. It was going too smoothly. They were well within the lit areas now, but they had yet to hear or see a guard. He took out his gun. Something wasn't right.

Thorin's eyes could make out a shape at the end of the room. It resembled a throne, and he could vaguely remember Fili mentioning something about Smaug having built a throne room down here under the mountain. But the throne was empty.

_Where are you, Smaug?_

"Get ready," Thorin whispered to the others. "Get ready for anything."


	22. There Are Things Worth Staying For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Invaders attack Caledonia. Kili takes action. Things go a bit haywire in Erebor.

"Kili. Fili."

A whisper edged its way in between the weave of silence in the room.

"Hey. Come on. Wake up."

Dwalin's gruff voice groaned, and the floor creaked when Kili started waking. "Are they always like this?" he could be heard asking someone else who could only be Ori—or those were the people Kili recalled last having been in the same room with.

"How would I know?" a different voice instead huffed. It took Kili a second to recognize it. Bilbo, if he wasn't wrong. "I don't usually pay attention to how people wake up, or at least I don't know all of you nearly well enough to start doing it." But he hesitated. "Fili doesn't strike me as a deep sleeper. Maybe we should leave him, in case he really needs his rest."

"We _all_ need our rest," Ori sighed. He tentatively reached out with one hand to feel Fili's forehead. "His fever seems to be gone now. That's good, right?"

"That's very good," Bilbo nodded. "Can you help me tie my boot, Ori? It's a bugger with one good hand."

As the redhead knelt to primly tie the lace, Bilbo asked, "Do they want us to leave the hospital?"

"Probably not," thought Dwalin aloud. "We're supposed to be healing."

Stretching under the sheets, Kili silently announced to the world that although he wasn't doing a great job at it just yet, he was technically awake. The movement stirred Fili too, and Kili rolled off of the golden haired man with reluctance.

"Where's Dr. Bombadil?" he croaked, pausing to nudge Ori's hair where it was level with Kili, and continued, "I'm sure he knows."

As if summoned, Dr. Bombadil hurried into the ward, rolling a wheelchair in front of him. "What are you two still doing in bed? Kili, get your brother awake and into some clothing. Please."

"What's going on, Tom?" Fili asked sleepily, brushing his hair away from his face.

"They've entered this building before," Bombadil explained. "They have a key. What's to stop them from doing it again? We're moving you all to the school. There's plenty of room and cots there. None of you are so ill that you can't recuperate there, on a cot."

Bilbo, who was none too eager to witness a repeat performance of what had happened to him just two days earlier, nodded. "Yes, up and at 'em, all!" He might have clapped smartly if one arm weren't immobilized. "You heard the man."

Fili groaned. "I feel like I could sleep for days."

"And you can," Ori assured him, "once we vacate this place."

But Fili knew that he wouldn’t sleep again for some time if there was danger of his home being under attack.

"Here," Dr. Bombadil handed Ori a bag. "Go into that room." He jerked his head towards the supply cabinet, "and fill this with everything you can. Start with the top shelf. This one as well," he handed the lad a second bag. 

"Okay," Ori hurried off to do Tom's bidding.

With the haze of sleep still blurring his eyes, Kili frowned. "Why now?" he complained. "I thought this place was secure." They could have moved them to a different location a day ago. It didn't make sense for him to screw up his comfortable position next to Fili for that now. With reluctance did he pull a hospital gown over Fili's underwear, pausing to watch the keloids disappear under the cotton, and got up from the bed to fetch them both a pair of slippers, and saw how Ori got back loaded with packs of medicine. "...Are we under attack?"

"No," Tom told them. "Not that I'm aware of. Legolas just asked us to vacate this particular building. I'm afraid you're going to need more than slippers and nightgowns, kids. Find your clothes. We're going outside."

"I came back from Erebor with only my jeans..." Fili lamented. 

"Here, then," Bombadil rummaged around and tossed him a tan sweater. Fili recognized it as one of the doctor's own. He smiled gratefully and slipped out of the hospital gown, pulling it on over his shivering frame. 

The slippers Kili tried to put on him wouldn't fit over the thick bandages on his feet. 

"It's all right," he whispered as Kili struggled with them. "I'm not allowed to walk anyway. I'll get some socks at some point. Tom, why do we have to go to the school? Why don't we go to my house? It's empty and much more comfortable."

"Empty? What about your dad? And Legolas?" Pulling on some ill-fitting clothing himself, Kili started looking around for the wheelchair. Fili could not move like this.

"They went to Erebor," Ori told Kili. "They left about an hour ago. Thorin and Bofur went with them, and some tall, dark fellow with a sniper rifle. I've only read about those in books."

Fili blushed as Ori and Kili helped him into the wheelchair. "I hate this," he confessed. "I hate being fussed over."

"I'm thinking your brother doesn't mind it so much..." Dwalin said with uncharacteristic tenderness, "fussing over you. It's what you do for those you care about," he said, handing Ori his bag with his one good hand.

Kili glanced at Dwalin and had a feeling that the man was aware of more than he had told him, and probably without Ori informing him about it. He wondered if, if Dwalin knew, he'd eventually tell Thorin and cause a whole new level of awkwardness between them. But in the meantime, he planned to make sure Fili was safe, no matter how he'd do it.

But why was Thorin going back to Erebor? Why was he putting himself in such a dangerous situation? What was going on?

They weren't fast when they left the hospital. What was strange was that all of the others had already gone, and the streets were eerily empty. It made Kili push the wheelchair a bit faster while listening to Dr. Bombadil's directions. The concrete path out of the hospital changed soon into friendly cobblestone—that wasn't quite so friendly to a wheelchair—and finally back to better pavement. Ori and Dwalin tagged behind, and Kili sometimes paused to make sure Bilbo could catch up. Bilbo, he was beginning to find out, cared about Fili's health almost as much as he did.

"Careful," he'd say when they met a bump in the road, or "There's a rock, make sure you don't—" He frequently trailed off, probably not wanting to be impolite, but it made Kili feel incredibly nervous and inadequate. When they finally reached Fili's house, it came as a relief.

Fili's eyes followed Bilbo's every move. Either the man was being an incredible mother hen—and Fili knew _all_ about mother hens—or he had an interest in Fili that went beyond just friendship. Fili thought back over their interactions of the previous days. The private tour, the conversation, saving Bilbo's life—twice. Well _shit,_ he sighed.

_Would it be so bad?_ asked a small voice in his head, _for you to find someone and have a normal relationship? Do you really think Thranduil's going to be okay with what you and Kili are doing? He's your brother._

"It's all right, Bilbo," he said, trying to calm the man's concerns. "I don't have any pain. Not really. I'm sure it doesn't compare to how you and Dwalin are feeling. Broken bones, shot. I can't compete with that in the injury department. And I'll be right as rain in a few days. We can finally show you the gardens, like you wanted. I know you probably have a lot you can teach us." 

"I'm not going along, if Mr. Oakenshield still wants to go to Erebor," promised Bilbo. "If you'd have me, I could teach you all I knew, not that you probably need it. Your crops and flowers are growing quite marvelously by themselves already." He looked for Dwalin to help push the wheelchair over the threshold, grateful that the home had only one small step up into the living room.

Kili reluctantly gave up the task of caring for Fili. He was back behind the wheelchair as soon as Dwalin cleared the task for him. "I don't think I'm leaving either," he felt that he needed to make his own intentions heard. "Erebor isn't what I hoped it would be. I don't think it ever will be." He turned to Ori, "What about you?"

"It's clear I'm needed here," Ori bit at his lower lip. "No one here knows how to knit. And, I was talking with Dr. Bombadil about becoming his apprentice. Oin was going to teach me how to mix herbs for medicine and everything. I think I'd really enjoy that."

"Even if Uncle does kill Smaug. Even if Erebor is cleaned out of gangs and those cannibals," Fili shivered at the thought, "I don't think I could ever view that place as my home. But I certainly wouldn't try to keep him from it. It's where he grew up. It's important to him. As much as I'd like to have him around, if that's where he wanted to be... I wouldn't stop him. But I'm glad you guys want to stay."

Kili didn't say it, but he thought to himself that he wouldn't know what he'd do if he was in Erebor and Fili remained in Caledonia, and wondered whether he hadn't made it clear enough to Fili that he wanted them to stay together. He rode Fili over to the couch to take a seat there. "So we wait?" he asked. "What for?"

"I suppose Legolas is worried we might be attacked again," Fili whispered, so that only Kili could hear. He didn't want to frighten the others. "They know where we are. And we have three of theirs in our prison, don't we?"

"I'd feel better if I had my slingshot," Ori muttered from the other side of the room as if he'd overheard, where he was helping Dwalin up the stairs and into Fili's bed. 

Kili looked over at Fili and Bilbo. "Where is it stored?" asked he. "You got me back my bow, but Ori's slingshot, Dwalin's axe...I doubt this house is a stronghold. It has so many windows. If something happens, the best we can do is draw the curtains and pretend nobody's home."

"I agree," Fili nodded. "None of us should be even attempting to fight. Right now, I think even Dr. Bombadil could take down any of you. I put the weapons back inside the wagon you came in that very first day you came to town," Fili told him. "Dad had them park it in the rear of the cattle barn. I doubt it's been moved."

With a nod of resolution, Kili got up and to the door. "Bilbo," he nodded at the gardener, needing no words to convey that he trusted the man to protect the house while he was out. Not that Kili thought himself such a great guardian. He was walking away from four people who ought to still be in a hospital bed, and their doctor. And a bag of medicine. If anyone found them there, that bag would be better loot than gold or food.

He hurried through the streets to the barn. Daisy stood munching on oats without a care in the world. She followed him with her eyes, and Kili couldn't help but stop for a second to rub her nose. Then, tapping it once as a goodbye, he continued his search for the wagon.

As soon as Dwalin had been put to bed, Ori walked down and joined Fili and Bilbo. He was sleepy and weak, but he asked, "Is it okay if I put on some tea?"

"You look tired, Ori," Fili told him. "You should have stayed in bed and rested yesterday when Dr. Bombadil told you to. Kettle's in the kitchen, probably on the stove. If not, it's in the cabinet above and to the right. Will you get some rest after?"

"I'm good, really," Ori smiled. He padded to the kitchen, put on water, and set it to boil while returning to the living room. There he found a spot on the sofa, next to Bilbo. Puling his feet up, he sighed. "This thing with Erebor...I'm sorry. None of this probably would have happened if we hadn't showed up. I'm glad we found this place, don't get me wrong, but it hasn't been that beneficial for you. Bilbo, we shouldn't have dragged you out of Bag End either. Look at you, they shot you."

"They shot _at_ me," Bilbo smiled, "but they missed. Guess Dwalin was a larger target. I'd probably still be in Erebor trying to teach them how to grow vegetables in radioactive soil, if you hadn't come after me. I haven't quite thanked you properly for that, have I, Fili?"

"What's proper, anyway?" Fili was busily brushing out his hair and putting a long braid down one side. "I needed rescuing myself eventually, didn't I?"

"That wasn't me," Bilbo admitted. "I would have liked to be the one taking you back home. They said it was a dreadful place." He wriggled his nose, looking in front of himself blankly before remembering where he was. "Well, you heal a lot faster, at least. Look at you. I bet you've got a lot of people really worried about you."

Fili shrugged, cheeks turning a little pink. "Everyone who matters the most already knows how I am. I just...I wish I could get up and help. I hate that Dad, and Thorin and Legolas are all back at that place. They might not come home," he whispered, realizing, "I might not see them again."

"But going after them wouldn't increase their chances either." On Bilbo's other side, Ori leaned into the pillows, waiting for the moment the water was boiling. "Don't get me wrong, I hate that they're out there now just as much as you. But think about it, we're also a good reason they will want to come back. Oh!" And up and off to the kitchen Ori ran at the whistle.

Bilbo remained, leaning against the couch close to Fili. "When this is over, I promise I'll show you exactly how to use the soil," he offered in a faint attempt at consolation. "Fili..."

"I look forward to that, Bilbo," Fili said quickly. "I never really got excited about farming before. But I think you could probably inspire me to enjoy it. Kili said you have gigantic tomatoes and grapes in Bag End. I still can't believe you left your home for this. If I were you I'd be running away from here as fast as my legs could carry me."

"There are things worth staying for," smiled Bilbo softly. "But now is not the time to be taking about that, I suppose. I could really do with that cup of tea."

"I know _I_ believe that," Fili smiled softly, "but I'm biased. But, if you stay, you must promise me you'll take me to see Bag End someday."

Bilbo leaned a bit closer lazily. "I'll take you there and show you everything, you have my word." 

Just when he was about to ask Fili something else, a loud bang sounded from not too far away. The floor shook for a whole of five seconds, and then down came splinters of wood.

Wide-eyed, Bilbo clutched Fili’s arm. "Oh, this is not good," he muttered, frightened, "not good at all." He gasped. "Kili!"

"Oh my god!" Fili's eyes grew wide and his first inclination, to get to his feet, was thwarted quickly. "The window. Get to the window. Tell me what you see! Ori! Are you all right?"

"Fine!" Ori called shakily from the kitchen. "Don't go to the windows! Don't let anyone see you!" He didn't need more than the sound to figure out that this was wrong. "And be quiet!"

"Kili's out there...and he's alone!" Fili told the redhead. "He went to the cattle barn to get some weapons from your wagon!"

Ori was beside him in a second. "What?! But...oh god, because I said I needed my slingshot, isn't it?" He looked outside. Shadows were passing by the windows, some of them running while others walked. He gestured for them to not make a move or sound.

"Was that a bomb?" Dwalin's voice came from upstairs. "It sounds like a bomb. Is everyone all right?"

"We're okay, Dwalin," Ori assured him, coming to the foot of the stairs. "Those of us who are here. Kili's out in it, though."

"We have to go after him," Fili insisted. "Get me a pair of boots."

"No!" Bilbo and Ori said almost at the same time. Ori added, "He's there because of me. I'll go, as soon as it's safe to leave this place. Tell me the fastest way." 

He prayed that this didn't pull Dwalin out of bed as well.

"No." Fili was insistent. "You—" He gave a quick assessment of the other men in the house. Bilbo had broken a couple of ribs and his left shoulder was out of commission. Dwalin was still weak from his gunshot wound. Fili, while he could probably walk—if it came to that—wouldn't have a lot of speed. It had to be Ori. "All right," he conceded, giving quick directions to the barn, which wasn't more than a block away. "Be careful. If it seems unsafe, don't go."

"I won't leave him out there alone," Ori said resolutely, lacing up his boots. "Don't even!" he shushed Dwalin. "You'd go after me, wouldn't you? It's Kili out there. I'm going. It's that simple." He gave the three men a reassuring smile and slipped out the front door.

As soon as Ori closed the door behind him, he understood that this would be more slightly more difficult than imagined. As he exited onto a small private garden, he heard shouts all around him—battle cries, meant to frighten and bring chaos. Sheltered by his well-meaning brothers, he hadn't heard anything like it before. It sounded like a stampede of wild animals, like madness, and even if they were drifting off into the direction of the city center, they made him freeze in his steps.

Kili was there. He was a good hunter and had undoubtedly heard the explosion before Ori or the others had, but he was a man by himself, and what good could he do against a horde? There had to be at least thirty of them that Ori could hear.

For a moment Ori didn't dare do anything. Then he drew together his courage, opened the door onto the street, and searched for the first shadow. Here he was, trying to be stealthy. At least nobody saw him the first corner, and the second corner—

A thud came from behind him, and the body of a man limply crumpled onto the street. A fletched arrow protruded from his chest. Ori stared up.

The man lying injured—possibly dead—in front of him looked like one of the men from Erebor, as evidenced by his dark tattoos and ratty hair and piercings. When he turned to see who had fired the shot, hoping against hope that he was right in his assumptions, there was Kili, bow in hand.

The brunet gave Ori a relieved half-smile at finding him alive and tossed him his slingshot, which was caught with one hand.

"This is insanity!" Ori hissed. "We can't fight. We can't. We haven't the training!"

"We have to," said Kili, who knew the ways of survival better than most social conventions. He kept his bow taut in front of him, at the ready for anyone who posed a threat, his expression again alert. Around his chest he carried a second bow and a quiver of steel-tipped arrows, and from around his hips hung an axe.

Ori didn't pay attention for a second, and Kili felled another man behind him. He cursed. "Back inside the house! Have they found it yet?"

"Found _what?_ " Ori eyed the two men on the ground for signs of life.

"Never mind. The house? Is everyone safe?"

Neither of the men still breathed, Kili had made sure of it. He was shaking. At least the many modifications made it seem less like he had just killed two human beings. Still, Kili had killed to defend himself. Any less time he had to look at them would be better.

Grabbing Ori's hand, he guided his friend away from the scene and back into the shadows, until they made it back to the garden. Kili kept his eyes trained on the door. "We can't stay here," urged he. "They're setting houses on fire. I don't know what they're looking for, but I think they're here for something specific."

"Everyone was all right when I left, but you know how quickly things change around here. Looking for something? What do you think it is?" Ori wondered. "These people are just living their lives. Aw, hell. We have no idea what Thranduil's hiding. Who am I kidding?" He was silent for a moment as they hid within the corn. "We need to go for them...Dwalin, Fili and Bilbo. The doctor left to help someone else shortly after you did."

Kili nodded and pulled Ori along. Outside the garden, something whizzed by, and then a crackling of burning wood grew. They ran faster until reaching the house, pushed open the door, and closed it just in time; an arrow lodged itself into the wood. That meant someone knew they were there. The house was no longer safe.

Turning around, Kili pushed Ori further into the house and returned outside with his bow at the ready. "Don't look, and stay away from the windows," he urged. "I'll be back as soon as I can." Once again he separated himself from the others.

"Kili, don't—" Ori protested, but Kili was gone before he could stop him. Ori was at once jealous of Kili's weapon. Aside from the flames, he hadn't enough light to look for stones to use as ammunition for his slingshot. Yet he'd promised Fili he would find Kili and bring him back. And now here was Kili protecting him—protecting the entire town, in fact. 

Ori lost track of how many arrows he heard making contact with flesh and wood. Many people in Caledonia were going to have to rebuild their homes. And many of Smaug's followers were going to be dead or injured.

\- - - - -

"Look, fire!" Arwyn's blue eyes were wide as she looked out the window.

"Come back here, little one," Dori called out to her. "I was just getting to the best part of my story." 

The children of the town had gathered in the school in its most central location with the fewest windows—the gymnasium. Dori had them sitting Indian-style on the floor as he told them (and many of their parents and town elders) stories to pass the time. True, the stories were mostly animated re-tellings of old fairy tales. But he had the children's rapt attention. Even some of the parents forgot for a time that their home was under attack.

Bifur, Bombur and Nori had set up posts around the school perimeter, as had other parents and those of fighting age. These kids would be safe, they had vowed. 

Already one small fire in a classroom had been extinguished. But how soon would it be until another errant flaming arrow found its mark inside the building?

Bombur thought he'd saw Thorin's nephew run by outside and when he saw a body fall, full of piercings with an arrow in his chest, he knew. Kili was protecting Caledonia from the attackers.

\- - - -

"It's been too long," Fili whispered to Bilbo, a tear running from both eyes. "They're dead. I know it."

"Don't say that," Bilbo tried. He felt helpless in front of the man who had done so much for him, but who was currently crying. Dwalin looked at them uncomfortably from where he stood, and Bilbo looked back like a man drowning. "The road could just be blocked. Right. I'm sure that's it."

"As long as the kid didn't go back to save his yarn," Dwalin tried to lighten the mood—and ended up only casting more shadows. He paced, thinking of something to do, but his injuries were acting up soon enough, and he moved to the kitchen. When he came back, he was carrying a set of big kitchen knives. "Here. Just in case."

"Thank you," Fili sniffled. "I...it's the fire. I really don't like it. You see, when—when the bombs fell, everything was burning, and I couldn't get away..." he explained lamely, swiping at his eyes, gripping the knife Dwalin had handed him firmly. "It's stupid," he frowned looking away. "Of course, _everyone's_ scared of fire, aren't they?"

"With what happened to you, and how small you were," Dwalin squeezed his shoulder, "You might have more reason than most."

"M-my dad has a pair of old extra boots in the room behind the kitchen," Fili told them. "They're bigger and should fit me fine. Can you get them for me? I need to be ready if we need to run." He tried to control the shaking in his voice, but panic was setting in. If his home were to catch fire and he were stuck inside in a wheelchair… "Please."

The larger man was off at once. That left Fili alone with Bilbo. Although Bilbo played it cool, he was terrified. This would not have happened in Bag End. His crops might be stolen by bandits if ever he were that unlucky, but not pillaged. He was no threat to anyone. "Thorin and his big mouth," he heard himself mumbling, turning the knife over before putting it away on the table. It didn't feel right in his hands, unless it was to fillet a fish. "'Come along', he says. 'New worlds. Adventures.' Oh. Next time I decide to follow some stranger with a story that sounds nice, let that plan not be so monumentally flawed. What rubbish."

There was a rummaging at the door. Bilbo nonetheless veered up, knife at once in his hands, and ready to defend Fili to the last second. But instead of an Orc, the voice was mousy and panicked. "Don't shoot! It's me, Ori!"

Fili inspected the redhead carefully. "Did you find Kili?" he asked, dreading the answer.

Ori nodded, catching his breath and holding up his slingshot and Dwalin's favorite axe as proof. "He sent me on ahead. While I was watching, he dispatched at least three of the enemy. You should have seen him, Fili! He's such a good archer. I can't believe I ever tried to convince him to switch weapons!"

Fili's chest swelled with pride, but his concerns for his brother, out there alone, weren't relieved. "The fires..." he started.

"Smaug's men have set fire to a few houses," Ori told him. "Maybe four of them. I think one of the warehouses was on fire, but I saw some men putting that one out. Your animals are safe," he assured him. 

"Did you see anyone else?" Dwalin wondered. "Any of ours?"

Ori shook his head. "No. There's a lot of smoke, but not a lot of light. It's quiet, considering."

"What was that explosion, then?" Bilbo wanted to know. "Are you sure it's Smaug?"

"I don't know," Ori told him. "Maybe it came from Erebor. But it's definitely—" 

Quite suddenly the door banged open, and whether it was Erebor or not did no longer matter. Thranduil's boots stood next to Fili when the first Orc entered into the living room. He grinned when his eyes landed on the four. It was a ghastly, victorious laugh that had Ori's hairs on end and Bilbo shaking. "Over here!" he called out to unseen men outside, and took out his knife like a delicious meal had been spread out before him.

Although it was still four against one, the man was not afraid. He licked his lips and pointed at Bilbo with his stained knife. "Nice and plump. I'm keeping you for last, small one."

Ori didn't know what happened, but the next moment he had launched a fairly weighty glass orb—Thranduil's odd taste of home decoration turned out to be useful—and shattered it against the assailant's left eye.

Before the yowling invader had time to clasp a hand over the injury, Dwalin swung his axe one-handed and embedded it in the man's skull. The Orc fell to the floor, dead before he reached it.

With a wince and a ghastly cracking sound, Dwalin withdrew the axe. "Nice work, Red," he winked at Ori. "I knew you weren't going to let Kili show you up." As he gave the still body a kick, he felt a tugging on his wounds. "I can't be doing that much more," he told the others. "Baggins, you'd best pick up a weapon in case we get any more of them guys."

Fili, who had pulled the boots on over his bandaged feet, tied them up quickly. "That paperweight was one of Dad's favorites," he grinned at Ori. Thranduil would be proud to hear of what Ori had done with it. "You'll find more in his study, in there," he inclined his head in the proper direction. "Are you all right, Bilbo?"

"Of course I'm not," tittered the man, pushing the door shut and looking around for something to become a weapon in his free hand. His eyes didn't find much more than a letter opener, and he fetched it out of its holder. "Better this than nothing," he reasoned with himself.

More were coming; the man had definitely acted like others had heard his call. Bilbo looked at Fili. "Have you got a cellar? Maybe your old man built in an escape route?"

Fili nodded. "Cellar, yes. Escape route? I don't think so. But we can look." His eyes scanned the advancing Orcs for signs of fire. "Come on." He started leading them towards the basement door. A stitch on the sole of his foot tore almost immediately. "Let's go!"

Ori shared a concerned look with Bilbo that clearly telegraphed, _Keep an eye on him._

Fili flung open a wooden door and led the foursome downstairs, bolting the door behind them. "If there's no way out," he lamented, "we're trapped down here."

"I know." Bilbo didn't like it either. At least they would be harder to find here, but he wasn't sure what he'd do if they set the house on fire. The cellar seemed fairly isolated, yet smoke had a tendency of finding a way. He remembered one of his neighbors, that night that the hearth set the house on fire. The pantry in the basement had not escaped the flames. It had been a full year's stock worth of food.

He huddled closer to Fili in the dim room.

Fili slipped his hand into Bilbo's and squeezed. "I don't want to die here, in my home," he whispered. "Home's supposed to be the safest place there is."

"Shh," whispered Bilbo, who did not feel all that courageous anymore.

They heard the sounds of at least three pairs of feet in the living room above, and the breaking of glass and ceramics. Whatever was going on or whatever they were talking about, they weren't happy about finding the house empty. One moved to the kitchen, the other upstairs.

Ori had found the opportunity to open a door at the back of the house. He prayed that they saw it and left the premises. But they remained unaware until a fourth person entered, and all was chaos aboveground.

\- - - - -

Mil and Randi crept through a damaged—but far from devastated—Caledonia. For all intents and purposes, they were warriors of Smaug. Mil knew they were taking a risk coming here. He had only seen his son three times over the years, and only from a distance. He and Tauriel had both agreed that they didn't want to confuse the boy.

"Is that the house Tauriel was talking about?" Randi whispered, pointing at a red brick colonial up ahead. From within, they could hear the sounds of things being tossed around, and fighting.

Mil nodded. "Come," he gestured to his sister, a club at the ready.

When they entered, they found the bodies of three of their former neighbors on the carpeting, all impaled by arrows. The archer who had done the deed spun to meet them, another arrow notched in his bow. Mil recognized him from the mines.

"Wait!" he dropped his club and raised his hands in surrender. "My name is Mil. I'm Max's father!"

"Then what are you doing here?" hissed Kili, not convinced of the safety of lowering his weapon. "Who's she? Where did they take my friends?" He looked almost feral, the way he snarled at Mil. Many people had died by his hands today. But Kili was not a warrior; he was a hunter. He killed for a purpose. Everyone who had died today, had died for nothing. No leather could be made from them, no food salvaged. They had all died in vain. It was starting to rip at his soul. "Not a step closer."

"This is Randi, my sister." Mil gestured towards the blonde.

"I remember you from the mines," she told Kili. "You dropped this." She reached slowly into her pocket and withdrew a piece of leather with knot-work on it. Kili immediately recognized it at the one Ori had made him. It also made him realize that—

"Yes, it was me who drugged you," Randi said quietly, handing it to him. "I'm sorry about that. But getting you and your friend out of that mine was for your own safety as well as helping our credibility with Smaug. He's doing all sort of experiments down there on old Dragonfire missiles. All it would take is one wrong move, and the whole mountain will come down."

"We don't know where your friends are," Mil added. "We just got here ourselves, and—"

Ori poked his head into the room, followed by Bilbo, Dwalin and Fili. "Kili!" Fili brightened immediately.

"Fili?" Some of the wildness disappeared from Kili's eyes. He lowered his bow, paused between keeping Mil and Randi under aim and following the emotions overruling instinct, and quickly walked to Fili to pull him in a hug. The hug that Kili gave Ori was shorter. But then his arrow was at the intruders again. "You haven't told me why you're here. You're setting houses on fire, don't tell me it's because you're fleeing."

"We're here for my son, and for Tauriel," Mil told him. "We left our belongings at the edge of the woods, hidden under some branches. I haven't set any homes on fire. In fact, I helped one of your men just a few moments ago. An older fellow. He had fallen down and some embers had hit his shirt. He was on fire. I patted him out." He held up his hands, still red from the heat of the embers.

"Mil and I aren't the only Orcs who have turned against Smaug," Randi told them "We number about twenty five."

"Turned against Smaug?" Bilbo frowned. He finally dared to step out from behind Fili and Dwalin and looked up at Mil—a towering man with almost a foot on him in height alone, not to mention bulk. "Where are the others? Why would you set things on fire if you're not with Smaug? And could we please—" he looked back at his friends, then at the dead bodies on the floor that made him nauseous, "—move to the kitchen, or at least out of this room?"

Kili looked at the bodies that were his doing in a detached fashion. He lowered his bow at last, cast his eyes down, and walked away from the carnage. His hands were shaking. This wasn't over yet. There were still men outside, looking for whatever it was they thought they needed. He wouldn't be surprised if it was the bag of medicines, or simply food.

Bilbo sighed out in relief as soon as the bodies were out of sight. He still found a spot close to Fili, because it made him feel safer, and he turned on the two Orcs again. "Can someone tell me what is going on?"

"Tauriel is Azog's daughter," Fili told Bilbo. "We all just found out day before yesterday. And her little boy—apparently this man is his father."

"And I would be his aunt," Randi offered lamely. "Tauriel was sent away by Azog when she was little, about the time our people began eating children. We were lucky enough that we were over the age of ten when then started or we'd be dead by now."

Fili's eyes fell to Mil's boots. He recognized them instantly. "It was you who hit me in the woods and took me to Azog," he concluded.

Mil inclined his head, and Kili practically growled in response. "So what now? You leave this house without us and continue to search for them? What if you find them? What if someone else does first?"

"You misunderstand," Randi told him. "We're here because Tauriel told us that if there were a siege, we were to come to this particular house and protect its occupants. Isn't this where Tauriel's family lives?"

The small company looked at each other in doubt at that news. They had each made up their own theories, but none had included something of the like.

Ori was the first to speak out in something more eloquent than a slack jaw. "Does she mean for us to sit it out, or would you still protect us if we were to run? How many are out there anyway?"

"If we're sitting ducks..." started Bilbo.

More practical, Dwalin spoke up, "Can we stop the siege?"

"The only thing that will stop this siege is the exact thing that would have prevented it in the first place," Fili said firmly. "A peace accord. A treaty, if you prefer. It's what Azog's wanted for a long, long time. He told me this when he was in Erebor. If the people of Caledonia and the people loyal to Azog saw Thranduil and Azog working together towards a peaceful resolution...well, I don't think all this would be happening."

"Thranduil isn't here right now," Ori reminded them all.

"Well, then who's in charge of Caledonia?" Randi wanted to know.

"I..." Fili gave a small gasp when four expectant faces turned his way, "I suppose it might be me."

Weary and tired of the previous hour, Kili sat down. He longed for a hot bath—how quickly, he realized, had he gotten used to them—and for the world to stop spinning for a moment. "So these people are raiding Caledonia because they wanted a peace accord?" He had no grasp of politics, but that sounded like madness. Either way, if it was the only chance Caledonia had at surviving, they might as well take it. He nodded faintly, then lay his head in his hands and groaned.

Ori sat down next to him immediately. Kili tried to smile. "Just had a lot happen today," he said to ease away the concern of his friend, and squeezed his hand in affirmation. "Just...make it stop. No more killing." Then he frowned and looked up at Mil and Randi. "What about Smaug's followers? Will they stop too?"

"There aren't many left, thanks to you," Randi nodded at Kili. "I'm certain Smaug kept some of his men back at the mines. But, even that number pales in comparison to the population here. Even if they all showed up, fully armed, they'd be easily stopped."

"We're going to the jail," Fili said decisively. "We're going to release Azog and Tauriel. As we travel there, we stop every skirmish—with your help, of course," he said to Mil and Randi, "and when Azog is free, we are going to sit down and we are going to negotiate. Everyone not involved will go to the school cafeteria and sit down and have drink and food. _Everyone,_ " he reiterated. "Can we make this happen?"

Thranduil was not going to be happy with him.

\- - - - -

A great burst of fire lit the treasure trove in hues of golden, silver and a dazzling array of gemstone reflections. Thranduil was on one side of that wall, and he knew that the others were behind it. He hoped nobody had been caught in the middle. The inferno had singed the tips of his hair. "Legolas!" he cried out. "Talk to me!"

He had to move not to get caught by the second curtain of licking flame. It wasn't Dragonfire, or they would all be dead already, but in another place he would have marveled at the control of regular fire that Smaug had mastered with what was obviously a hand-made flamethrower. "Thorin? Where are you?"

"We're all right!" came a muffled reply from the other side of the wall of rubble. "We're digging our way towards you."

"Send Bard through first!" Thranduil insisted. "Smaug's inside with me!" This declaration was punctuated by a blast of fire; he felt the skin on his thigh blister as he rolled out of the way.

Their plan had gone quite well. The explosion to seal Smaug forever inside his beloved treasure-filled throne room had gone off with only one small hitch—Thranduil, who'd gotten his ankle hooked in some rubble, had gotten caught on the wrong side of the wall of rocks.

His order that they go on without him was, naturally, met with disagreement.

"Dig faster!" Thorin prompted Bofur, Legolas and Bard, tossing aside one end of a heavy beam. "Smaug will kill him if we don't hurry!"


	23. I Might Have to Make a Home Somewhere Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventurers escape from Smaug's lair... but not without injuries. Bilbo makes a move on Fili.

The Caledonians had not intended for anyone to be able to make it out of the mess the explosion had caused, and so progress was slow. Thranduil, who thought that they were a bunch of idiots—but was nonetheless glad not to be left to his death—tried to stay out of Smaug's reach for as long as he could. 

The entrance to the room had been small and narrow; what lay beyond was a landscape made of mountains of riches. The piles of gold were treacherous to traverse and prone to heating up fast after Smaug targeted them with his flamethrower, which meant that he had to keep moving. The gold also gave away his position at the slightest move. Thranduil wished he could use his gun, yet all bullets had been fired to keep Smaug off him while he extricated himself from the rubble. 

"Come on then!" he taunted, to make sure the creature's attention was on him and not the men trying to free him. "Is that all you've got? The great and frightening Smaug? I don't understand why anyone was ever afraid of you!" 

"You are getting tired, aren't you, Thranduil?" Smaug asked, voice rich with condescension. "You don't look so calm and pulled together now. I do wonder what your son and your friends are going to think when they break through that rubble, only to find your smoking remains?" 

He fired the flamethrower one more time and Thranduil managed to dodge in the nick of time, but ended up patting out a fire on the arm of his coat. 

"I just hope," Smaug said darkly, "I have time to get a taste of your flesh before they make it in." 

From the other side of the wall of rubble, none heard Thranduil's curse in reply, but Legolas shuddered. "Faster," he urged and set the bar higher by increasing his own efforts. He only stopped when he heard a cry that could only be his father, and frantically pushed away blocks of stone. The smaller ones were manageable, although it was not enough to make a clearance. "Thorin!" he called, "A hand, or I'm never going to accept you and Dad sleeping together!" 

If he meant to encourage Thorin, Legolas' words ended up moving Bard to his side instead. Together they attempted to dislodge a large boulder. "So _you're_ the one," Bard muttered to Thorin over labored breathing. 

Thorin tossed aside the rocks he'd been moving. " _The one?_ " he asked, leaning into the aforementioned bolder and adding just the impetus needed for it to roll out of the way. 

"I see light!" Bofur exclaimed. We're nearly there, lads!" 

Bard was about to respond when a terrible sound rendered him speechless. Thorin did not matter right now; only few things did, and the man in the other room was one of them, whether he liked it or not. 

"Faster!" he urged, though he needn't have said it. The breach became larger by their joined efforts. 

When at last Legolas was able to crawl through, his hands raw and his body shaking from exertion, his breath hitched. 

A smoldering waste lay before him. 

"Stay low," Legolas whispered in the stillness. The air itself smelled charred. "Dad?" he whispered. 

"Thranduil?" Thorin's deeper voice cut the stillness. "Call out if you can hear us!" 

But nobody replied. There was no light but that which Bofur carried—and lots, lots of smoke. 

"Thranduil?" Bard called out now too, then, tentatively, "Smaug?" 

Out of the corner of his eye, Thorin caught a glimpse of Thranduil's distinctive black leather boot, poking out from behind a nearby golden pillar. 

"Over here!" he called to the others. "I've found—" 

But as he rounded the corner, he discovered that the boot lay empty. 

A sinister chuckle caused Thorin to turn around, and a horrible sight met his eyes. There stood Smaug, holding Thranduil in front of him—a human shield. One hand gripped a handful of Thranduil's long hair while a second held a long, serrated knife to the man's neck. 

"Don't think I won't cut him, Oakenshield," Smaug growled. "Nothing would bring me greater pleasure than to kill your lover right in front of you." 

"You—" 

The only reason Legolas got no chance to charge at Smaug was because Bofur held him back. But when Smaug laughed, Bofur had to do his best to restrain him. 

Thranduil tilted his chin up, away from the rusty knife. "Don't listen to him," he told Thorin, addressing him alone. "You'll not get a better chance. Do it." His left hand was wrapped around a bleeding wound on his upper right arm, and a bruise was already shaping at the corner of his mouth. He knew he was signing his own death sentence with those words. 

Bard, unseen by Smaug, had crept behind a pillar and was taking aim between the man's red eyes. However, the way he was yanking Thranduil around, it was difficult for Bard to take a shot without the risk of hitting Thranduil. 

"I must say," Thorin took a step towards Smaug, trying to engage him, "it is a bit of a thrill to see you in person. We'd heard rumors of your death, you see." 

Thranduil frowned. He didn't understand what Thorin was getting at. But Smaug laughed and understood. He took a step back, his eyes skittishly flicking about for anything suspicious. "Where is the other one? I've not survived this long by luck, Oakenshield. You learn to understand your opponents. If I don't see him in three seconds, your lover pays for it with his life." 

"Then rejoice," spat Thorin, ready to tell him anything as long as it gave Thranduil a second longer. "He was caught under the rubble. He didn't make it. Another body to add do your count, you vile creature! Not that one more makes much of a difference to someone like you." 

"You're lying," said Smaug. He pressed the knife against Thranduil's pale skin and drew a small serrated line of flesh and blood. "I don't think you understand, Oakenshield. I'm not going anywhere. Nor are you. You're going to watch me tear him apart before I kill you myself. You won't leave this place alive. And you should have thought of that earlier. I expected more of you." 

He leaned in and rasped his teeth against Thranduil's neck, then bit hard. 

"No!" Thorin cried out, watching as Thranduil's face screwed up in pain and turned a deathly pale. As much as he wanted to, he wouldn't allow himself to give into his first instinct, which was to charge and try to kill Smaug. 

Instead, he withdrew his sword from his belt and lay it on the ground. "You want to kill us? Then start with me. You've wanted me dead for years. You killed my father, my brother. And how many others? How about you let him go and take your chances with me? I won't fight you." 

"Oh no," grinned Smaug around the open wound. Thranduil stood shaking against him. "You're next, but I've got you right where I want you." His red eyes shimmered with madness, and his teeth worried Thranduil's neck viciously. 

The blond crumbled under the attack with a gasp, and at once Legolas surged forward, his daggers at the ready. He didn't stop when Smaug used his father as a shield, but maneuvered around him like water around a rock. His blade sought for blood into the space behind his father's back, right where he expected Smaug's side to be. 

They grappled in a confusing flurry. Thranduil tried to stop the bleeding by clutching his neck. His hair had been released, but the grip on his wrist was iron even as he sank to his knees. Smaug would not let him go. He nearly broke Thranduil's wrist when dodging Legolas’ attacks, and Thranduil did everything he could to stay out of the way of the daggers. 

"Help me!" shouted Legolas desperately. Even one-armed, Smaug was too fast for him, dodging every attack like a clairvoyant who knew what came next, and when he saw his opportunity, he swept Legolas off his feet. 

Thorin took this diversion as an opportunity to leap forward and pull Thranduil from Smaug's grasp. With him in his arms, they rolled away to the side. As they came to a rest against a nearby pillar, Thorin prayed that Bard found an opening to kill, and soon. He just hoped Legolas didn't end up getting killed in the process. 

He could not see what happened, because Legolas was a flurry of motion. Back on his feet with a frustrated cry, he parried Smaug's attacks and tried to deliver some of his own. One of his daggers had fallen to the floor. Without the ability to pick it up, lest he present Smaug with a blind spot, Legolas kicked it out of both their reach. Whenever Smaug moved, he moved with lightning-fast reflexes in reply. Bard had no choice but to wait for an opening, and Legolas was not planning on giving him that. 

All at once, they both fell down. Legolas' hand shot out once again. Bard ran up to the spot from the shadows, his rifle aimed at Smaug's prone form. "Is he dead?" he called. "Legolas!" 

Then, only Thranduil's erratic breathing filled the air. 

Thorin reached into his pocket and pulled out an oversize handkerchief he kept there. His eyes met Thranduil's. "Don't try to get up," he advised. "Not yet." He folded the cloth into quarters and placed it over the bite. "Stay down until it's over. I don't think he injured any major arteries, but we can't be sure yet." He put a bit of pressure on the wound and Thranduil winced. "Sorry," he whispered. "I love you. Stay with me." 

In his arms, Thranduil's eyes were sliding shut. They couldn't see what was happening behind them—and Bard was circling the pair on the floor, the shuffling of his feet blocking out most of the quieter sound. 

Smaug and Legolas were both immobile, and Bard stalked around them like a viper in the night, but he never shot.

"Thorin? Bofur?" he asked at last. "I think we need to get Legolas out of here fast." 

"Son?" Thranduil's eyes snapped open when he heard Bard's words. Even in his weakened state, Thorin had to put a hand on the man's chest to keep him from trying to rise. 

A roar echoed into the deep of the mountain. One moment, Smaug was there. The next, he had dowsed the hall in darkness. How he did it was unsure—it could have been one of his servants looking on—but it put them at a great disadvantage, what with Bard's position revealed and Thorin and Thranduil trying as well as they could to find shelter on the floor. Legolas did not move. They could hear him breathing. It was a sound they'd rather not hear, for it was painful and weak. 

Thorin kept as still as he could. Any sound would give him away. He wasn't sure whether Smaug could not see like a bat in the dark, having lived in the mines for so long, and his attempt at staying hidden might not be very effective. He strained his ears. In the distance scurried a mouse. On their left came the tinkling of several coins, like clear water, before growing into a waterfall of silver and gold. 

Was that Bard? 

Running steps dragged that avalanche to their other side. 

"Stay where you are," whispered a voice that was human. And like sand did an embankment of treasure flow around him and Thranduil. It barely gave them enough space to breathe, but the cool cocoon offered them camouflage. Of course, Thorin thought absently, none of that would matter if Smaug decided to incinerate it all. 

From a great distance came another few coins in a cascade down to the bare path of stone running through it like a river. If it was Bard, he had put a considerable distance between them in a short time. If it was one of Smaug's men… 

Thorin could do nothing but wait. To move was to surrender his location, and with it, Thranduil's. The man was trying hard to keep calm and control his breathing. His wound continued to bleed, the warmth uncomfortable against Thorin's hands. That warmth was Thranduil's life. 

No, he couldn't think like that now. 

A long silence interrupted his thoughts. 

Bard and Smaug had to be somewhere, biding their time, waiting for the right moment. One of them was to his right, Thorin was fairly sure. 

Legolas groaned nearby. 

A bright flash reflected against metal, mineral and gem. 

For a second, the world revealed a nightmare scene. Thorin looked up and straight into the eyes of Smaug above him. They were red like the fires of hell, and impossibly wide. They were terrified. 

Then the man—who was no longer a man—clutched his stomach, fell to his knees, and toppled over. He revealed the crouched silhouette of a man behind him. 

And Legolas fell down again. 

Thorin stared. 

Seconds passed before, in a flurry of gold, Bard made it back to them. He felt for a pulse, and knelt near Legolas. 

"Bard, what happened?" Thorin pulled himself up and turned to the assassin. "Is Smaug...?" 

Bard paused. Out of spite, he reached for his gun and placed it against Smaug's temple. A loud bang reverberated through the echoing halls and made a mess of Bard's overcoat. The man didn't flinch. "He is now, without question. Legolas is wounded." He looked up at Bofur, who was pale around the edges and had only been able to hide, waiting for a chance to do harm with his inferior hammer. "Do you know how to apply a bandage? Come. Have a look, please." He carefully exposed the knife sunk into the flesh of Legolas' upper thigh. 

"He's got a knife in his thigh," Thorin told Thranduil. "It's far enough away from the artery that he should be all right. But we need to get you two home as quickly as we can." 

As eager as Thorin was to be relieved about Smaug's death, the injuries to Thranduil and his son were of a much greater concern. Both men were taller than him and Bofur. Thank god Bard was there to help. 

"I don't like the idea of withdrawing that knife," Bofur told them. "I'd rather let the doctor take care of it back in Caledonia." 

"We just need to get them to the four-wheelers as soon as possible," Thorin said. "We can use the mine carts. 

"I think I saw one not far from where we brought the ceiling down," Bofur said, glad to be feeling useful. "On the tracks that lead up to the surface." 

"Take us there?" asked Bard. 

They moved slowly. Every corner was a potential threat, and both Thranduil and his son further slowed them down without wanting to. Thranduil's pallor faded to a deadlier and deadlier white, and he clutched at Thorin to keep him upright. His dried blood stood out like a painful smudge against parchment. Once or twice did he stumble and Thorin’s heart clenched.

Their ascent took a lot longer than it should have, but eventually they made it. "How is he?" Thranduil wanted to know. 

"He's weak," Bard told his long-time friend. "Unconscious. But he should survive this, Thranduil," he affirmed. "As will you." 

"You see?" Thorin tightened his grip on Thranduil's waist. "We all made it out alive." 

"Well, yes," Bofur sighed. "That certainly was unexpected. Come now, we still have a bit of a walk to the vehicles. 

"I'm glad we decided to only bring the three," Thorin remarked. 

Thranduil faintly nodded. 

He should not have done so, because the next moment a sharp pain shot through him. He shivered and went nearly fully limp against Thorin, and needed all of his effort to get them out of the mines. He looked sicker than he already was. "Don't take too long," he breathed. He felt that he wouldn't survive long if they did.

\- - - - -

The medical ward was overpopulated and chaotic. Men shared what beds were left, and others lay on the floor. Kili huddled in a corner where he felt safe; Ori had to help out to get everyone that which they needed. It was battlefield triage.

Upon their return, there was practically no place for Thranduil and Legolas. Bard pushed until he secured Dr. Bombadil's attention in the storage room. "Help him," he inquired. 

Dr. Bombadil looked ready to collapse, and Oin, who had been assisting him in treating the wounded from both camps, fared no better. 

"Please," Randi stepped forward, "let me see his injury. I can help. I was the closest thing to a doctor they had in Erebor." 

"You're not going to treat him, you—" Thorin began, blocking Thranduil's bed from her view. 

"Uncle!" Fili's voice, surprisingly sharp, came from the other side of Thranduil's bed. "Let her by. She's very good at what she does!" 

With a huff of indignation, Thorin acquiesced. He had seen too much death today already. "I don't want to lose him," he argued. 

"Neither do I." 

Randi stepped forward like she couldn't quite understand what was happening either. She kept her eyes cast at the floor. Sharp angles protruded from her arms, and the skin on her wrists was stretched like a lizard's. She knew she didn't look anything like a trustworthy doctor. "I will do my best," she promised. "Doctor...?" 

"I'm Tom Bombadil," the doctor extended a hand to shake but, realizing it was slick with blood, he thought better of it. "Apologies. The other fellow is Oin. I never caught his last name, just Oin. Have you done any surgery before, Miss?" 

"Miranda," she said. "My name's Miranda. People call me Randi. I've extracted a few bullets and done some stitching. Even an amputation… once. If there's no veins or arteries involved, I should be able to fix him. I'm more an herbalist than a doctor,” she explained. "Can you shine that light onto his injury so I can see?" she asked Fili, who sat between her and the closest lamp. 

On closer inspection the wound in Thranduil's neck was a bloody one, but not beyond her scope. "It needs a thorough cleaning," she said to those around her. "Disinfection. This looks like a bite wound..." She didn't ask. "And then to be sewn shut. What have you got for that?" 

But Ori was a step ahead of her. He had already stitched up four people that day. As it turned out, sewing flesh wasn't much different than sewing a patch on a pair of pants. "I can close him up,” he offered, “if you just want to make sure it's not worse than it looks." 

“I’ve got it,” she assured him, and went about finding herself the needed equipment, pausing when she realized that she had not worked with sterile implements for years. It was with great care that she concerned herself with Thranduil's health. While dabbing away the first layer of blood, she asked Thorin, tentatively, "What happened to him?" 

"Smaug, he...," Thorin swiped at his tearing eyes with the back of his hand. "He bit him. He cut him first, but only a little bit. The tearing is from his teeth." He turned to Fili, "I tried to stop him. But he wanted to hurt me...make me see him suffer. I'm sorry, Fili." 

"You brought him home alive, Thorin," Fili said simply. "And you've killed Smaug. It's over now. Don't be sorry." 

Oin came to them with a needle full of anesthetic. He delivered it into Thranduil's neck with care. Thorin and Fili watched together as Randi made short work of sterilizing and cleaning the jagged wound and closing it up with neat, small stitches. 

"It reminds me of a wolf bite I once treated," she told him. "If he has trouble with infection, there are herbs that will help treat it. They grow on the edge of the forest. I should pick some. His other son might need them too." She shot a furtive glance at Legolas, who glared back at her, not pleased to have this Orc woman treating his father. He had refused to allow her to touch his own stab wound, insisting that Dr. Bombadil remove the knife and assess him. 

Dr. Bombadil was however busy, and Oin's were hands too shaky for the procedure. Randi therefor continued to stay nearby while she attended to others also in need. Since Legolas' situation was dire but manageable as long as he sat still, she could allow herself that time. But when his stubbornness was getting threatening, she sighed, offered Fili a pleading look, and got the man sedated. Only then did she advance. 

In the corner of the room, Kili lay alone. He watched everything with vacant eyes. His condition was not as dire as those with physical wounds. That was not to say he needed no attention. He was rolling back and forth, his eyes wet. Fili was somewhere else. As was Thorin, and Ori was too busy with others. He was alone. And sleep wouldn't come. 

Some time later, Thorin left Thranduil to rest, and sat gently on the edge of Kili's bed. The boy looked shell-shocked. Thorin raised a hand to brush unruly dark hair away from Kili's face. "Fili said you weren't injured in the attack," he told him. "Are you all right, Kili?" 

Big eyes looked up at his uncle. Kili unexpectedly choked and hid his face away. "I...I killed people, Uncle," he whispered with a shaky voice. "Men and women. One of them couldn't have been older than Ori. I looked him into the eyes, and I shot him. Because he'd kill others if I didn't. I didn't want—didn't—" His frame started shaking with sobs, desperately muffled away. 

"You _saved lives,_ " Thorin stroked Kili's hair in what he hoped was a gesture of comfort. He'd never been terribly good at showing his affection for the young man. "Fili told me that you're a hero. He said that buildings would have burned and people would have died—maybe even him, Ori and Dwalin—if it weren't for you. I'm so proud of you, Kili." 

Kili sniffed and moved into the touch. He needed someone to hold him, to make him feel better. And because they had both been distracted by other people, he hadn't had Thorin's devoted attention in a while. "I'm not," he whispered, knowing that he was at least glad he had been able to protect his friends, but it didn't wipe the memory of people dead or dying by his arrows from his mind. "Please take me away, Thorin. The noise, I don't want to hear it." 

Things were finally quieting down in the medical ward. "It's really not so loud here, Kili. Where do you want to go?" Thorin asked him. "Back to your bed at the school?" 

"Please," whimpered Kili. 

"Okay," Thorin agreed. Thranduil appeared to be resting more or less comfortably. And apparently Fili had drawn up some sort of peace accord while he'd been in Erebor. Clearly, he had underestimated his quieter, blond nephew. "C'mon." He helped walk Kili back to the school. Any bodies had been removed from the streets, thankfully, and all the fires were extinguished. 

"I understand that you and Fili did some amazing things while I was away," Thorin said to break the silence. "I look forward to hearing more about them. I'm glad you two are getting along." 

Kili wanted to say something. Thinking of Fili however made him smile, albeit faintly. He was a welcome light in the dark of his heart. "He's a great person. He sees the best in people, even when they don't, themselves." His hands linked while he allowed his uncle to guide him into silence. "He is a teacher," he said. Thinking of that made him feel better. It was a distraction from his memories of people dying. "There are children here, did you know? They're wonderful. Imagine something happening to them. I couldn't—" And he teared up again. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, Kili," Thorin said quietly, his voice hitching. "I wasn't much older than you when the Dragonfire fell. I saw things. Horrible, horrible things that no one should have to see. I did things I'm ashamed of too. I once killed a man with my bare hands. He was trying to take you away from your mother. You were so small, and she was too sick to fight. I tackled him, and I throttled him until he was dead. I still see his face in my dreams sometimes. But I don't regret it. I wasn't going to lose you, Kili. And I'm sure everything you did tonight was for the same reason—protecting those you care about." 

Thorin did not expect for Kili to suddenly wrap his arms around his waist and hold him close. It just wasn't something they did, not since Kili had grown older than five. "I'm so glad you're alive," the young man admitted. "Don't do that to me again! I was so afraid. Don't do that to me. I wouldn't know what to do. You're my father." 

"I'm so happy to hear you say that, Kili," Thorin smiled at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I have always considered you my son." 

They had stopped in the middle of a hallway. Kili sniffed. He tried not to be a burden, but he was overcome by a strange and unanticipated sentiment, and he ended up clinging to Thorin for the better part of five minutes before finally extricating himself, rubbing his nose awkwardly and ducking his head. "I'll find it from here." 

Despite Kili saying he wanted to find the room on his own, Thorin walked him there, and waited while Kili got undressed and into bed. Aside from a few scrapes, he had come through the skirmish in Caledonia unscathed. 

"Do you want me to get anything for you?" Thorin wondered, pulling the covers up to Kili's chin, an act he hadn't performed in nearly seventeen years. 

"Could you ask Fili to find me in a few hours?" Kili snuggled further under the sheets. His head was clearing up a little, but he didn't think it was a good idea to be left alone for too long. He rolled onto his side, capturing Thorin's hand to keep him there just a little longer. "Uncle Thorin? You like Thranduil, don't you? I mean, a _lot_?" 

Thorin nodded. "Yes, Kili. I have loved him since I was younger than you are now. After I kissed him the very first time, I knew that I would never have room in my heart for anyone else. Years went by, and I thought I'd lost him, but fate gave me a second chance." 

"Did Mom know?" Kili looked at Thorin with more happiness in his eyes. "I thought you never found someone. He's a bit funny, Thranduil. But he's not a bad man." 

"She knew, I believe, but we never spoke about it." Thorin smoothed down the blanket with one hand. "Our family used to visit theirs growing up. Then, we just grew apart. Dis never asked questions that she knew would be too painful for me to answer. But I always had hope, in my heart." 

Kili smiled. "Don't mess it up." He closed his eyes and tried to settle his breath into evening out. Although his mother was not there, he was sure that she would be happy to know of it, and that made him feel better, too. "Go see him, Uncle." 

"I don't intend to lose him again," Thorin chuckled, and leaned over to kiss Kili's forehead, before getting up to leave.

\- - - - -

"You need to let me take a look at those feet, Fili," Dr. Bombadil told him.

"There aren't any empty beds," Fili informed him of the obvious. "It can wait. You’re exhausted." 

"After what we went through with you last night?" Tom knelt and began undoing the laces of his boots. "I don't think so." 

Fili winced as the doctor revealed his bandaged right foot. It had swollen and the bandage was soaked through and dark red. He raised his eyes to Tom apologetically. 

"I know, I know," Tom sighed. "I couldn't have stopped you. And now you can't stop me from stitching you up again." 

"You shouldn't keep him from taking care of your feet," Bilbo nodded in acquiescence. He was one of the few men who wasn't wounded in the attack or feeling off. He felt he ought to be helping others, but he continued to flit around Fili out of concern. His frown increased as soon as he saw the mess that the wounds had become. "You shouldn't walk until that's healed. How about I drive you in the wheelchair? In fact, I don't think I'm giving you a choice," he bossed, offering Fili a smile. Then to Dr. Bombadil he asked, "Can I help you anywhere?" 

"That would actually be great, Bilbo," Tom told him. "Could you just do the rounds and take a look at each patient? If any of them seem to be in obvious pain or discomfort, or feverish, make note and let me know right away. That would be a huge help." 

With a nod, Bilbo was off. 

"I think he likes you, that one," Dr. Bombadil told Fili. "His concern goes far beyond the norm. You should have seen him last night," he said, frowning as he examined the torn stitches on Fili’s foot.

"You mean... _likes_ me, like...more than friends?" Fili winced as Tom poked around his injuries. 

"That's exactly what I mean," the doctor raised his eyebrows meaningfully. 

Fili felt a jolt of anxiety unfurling in his stomach. He spent the next few minutes as Tom worked on his feet watching Bilbo as he moved around the ward. He would have thought that Bilbo would be nervous around all these people, but he moved around easily, chatting briefly with those who were awake, laying his hand on some shoulders and straightening their covers and fluffing pillows. He met people's eyes when he spoke to them. Fili liked that. Bilbo's capable hands offered water to those who couldn't reach it, and his manner was sure and confident. 

"He's a very good man, from what I've seen," Fili said quietly to the doctor. 

"He certainly seems to be," Tom agreed. 

As if he knew he were being talked about, Bilbo raised his head and caught Fili's eye. He smiled, and Fili's palms began to sweat. He felt a warmth spread through him. 

_What the hell?_

Dr. Bombadil continued tending to Fili's feet until they were clean again, and freshly bandaged. He smiled when he looked between Fili and Bilbo. Fili had not taken a shine to anyone like that before—he knew, because Thranduil often complained about it, as did one of the girls that sometimes worked for him—and to see him like that brought hope back to Caledonia. Maybe they could all forget about it in time, and come out stronger. 

He carefully stepped back as soon as he was done. "Ask that one to go for a walk with you," he offered. "I think Ori can cover for him for an hour or so. I want you completely off those feet until I tell you it's okay." 

"I promise, Tom," Fili assured him. "I won't undo your hard work a second time. I've learned my lesson." 

He was also starting to come down from the adrenaline rush that the evening had been. He had escaped his home, battled with Orcs, and negotiated peace with Azog and his followers all in one night. He'd only had a short time to try to explain to Thranduil and Legolas why some of Azog's people were sharing the medical ward with them, and he wasn't too sure either of them were happy with him. But at least they had come home alive, and would remain so. 

Fili had managed to work things out in a round table discussion with Azog, Mil and Tauriel. Also present had been Elrond and Dr. Bombadil. The people of Erebor who wanted to become citizens of Caledonia could do so, provided they were all willing to learn a trade, or offer skills they already possessed to the town. They would be given clothing, food and shelter in exchange for their work and loyalty. Trips would be made regularly to Erebor to obtain building materials so that new homes could be built. Randi would be allowed to plant and maintain a sizable herb garden. 

All of this would be given a one-year trial. If after that period Azog's people had proven themselves trustworthy, they could stay and even begin to have families if they wished. 

The thought of having to monitor all this caused Fili to yawn. "Hey," he grinned when Bilbo caught him dozing off in his chair. "Some day, huh?" 

"Glad it's almost over," admitted Bilbo, "I don't think I've ever had a day last this long." The ward was quieting down at last, now that most of the people had fallen asleep. "How are you feeling? I forbid you from talking about your feet, by the way. Me, I was just offered a tuft of pipe weed again. I’m not going to take Mr. Bombadil up on that, I don't think. I've had quite enough adventure for a few weeks, thank you very much." 

"I'm glad Dad and Legolas came back alive. Thorin too, of course," Fili told him. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost one of them. And then, Kili..." He swallowed, "Did you _see_ him fighting those men? He was...it was amazing, wasn't it? I couldn't do that. I've never really been a fighter." 

Bilbo pursed his lips. "I don't think Kili is that much of a warrior, actually. Your brother has a lot of trouble coping with what he had to do. But what he did...oh, don't get me wrong, I'm glad he took care of things, but I wouldn't call killing people amazing. Where I come from, it's unheard of to kill someone. There are so few of us left. We depend on each other to survive. It's not in my nature to celebrate someone's death, even if that person would have killed me instead, you see?" 

"I'm not celebrating anyone's death," Fili's forehead crinkled as he frowned. "I'm celebrating that you—or I—might be dead if Kili hadn't stepped in and killed those men and women. These weren't people who wanted to be part of what we have here. They wanted to destroy it. They didn't want to negotiate. They wanted us dead. I don't want you dead, Bilbo." 

"I don't want you dead either," Bilbo shook his head. "I like you far too much alive. So stay alive awhile, okay?" Easing the tension, he scraped his throat. "How about that walk?" 

Fili's eyes flitted first to Thranduil's sleeping face, then to Legolas. 

"All right," he agreed. "But not too far, okay? Are you sure you feel up to pushing me around?" 

Bilbo waved away that concern by simply moving behind the wheelchair and rolling it slowly out the door, then away from the rampage that had made a pile of matchsticks from several buildings in town and onto a winding path that would lead them, well, somewhere nice, he hoped. 

Instead it led them into a dead end. Bilbo maneuvered the wheelchair around apologetically, but he stopped halfway and sat down next to Fili. His index finger raised to the twilight sky, his expression soft. It was a nice place to be. "I like looking at the stars. They remind me of home. I don't think I'll ever go back there again, not for real. So that means I might have to make a home somewhere else." He raised his eyebrow at Fili. "Have you got any suggestions?" 

Fili studied him carefully. "Why wouldn't you go home, Bilbo?" he wondered. "You've done nothing but say how much you miss your life in Bag End. It's a paradise. All Thorin's men say so. You've accomplished things there that put Caledonia to shame. Why would you want to leave your home?" 

Bilbo shrugged. He prodded a small lump of grass and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Well, that sounds altogether very black and white, doesn't it? I left because I suppose I wanted something different. They were very rude, you know. They didn't respect my wishes much when they stomped into my house. But I suppose they did fill my head with romantic ideas about what it would be like to find a new land and new people. And now that I have, they've begun to feel a bit like family. That, and I quite like you; enough not to want to say goodbye just yet." He smiled up at Fili. "I don't know how a lot of things are done over here, but I'm looking forward to finding out." 

"I like you too, Bilbo," Fili told him. "I felt a strong connection to you that very first time we met in the wagon. You made me smile. I like the way you speak, and the way you deal with people. I'm glad Uncle Thorin found you, and I'm glad you chose to come with them. But there's something I have to confess, and I'm afraid it's going to make you think very poorly of me." 

Bilbo chuckled warmly, quite casual about the conversation, but not in a disinterested way. "Oh, nonsense. I'm sure there's little you can say that might shock me. But you'll have to tell me now. No crawling back." 

"My father, for the past four years or so, has been not-so-subtly trying to get me to settle down with someone...you know, romantically," Fili sighed, smiling sadly. "For the longest time, he pushed me towards Tauriel. But I was never attracted to her. I was never attracted to _anyone._ Then in the past week, I met two people who have made me feel things...in my body, in my heart. Things I'd only read about in books, to be honest. Both are men—and I'm not surprised at all about that, nor am I disappointed. One of them is _you,_ " he looked up shyly, "but I guess you already figured that out." 

"Ah, uh, not exactly." But Bilbo was smiling broadly nonetheless. Hopeful. "You didn't give me much to go with," he admitted. "I guessed that you haven't got much experience yet. It wasn't hard to figure out. But I don't mind that." He leaned closer. "Who is the other one?" 

The proximity of Bilbo made Fili's stomach muscles flutter. "Y-you have to understand...we weren't raised together. To me, he's just another man. A stranger really. It is only blood—not a lifetime together—that makes us brothers." At this confession, Fili clasped his hand over his mouth. "I love him, Bilbo!" he whispered. "And I'm feeling things for him that brothers should not feel. I need to have my head examined." 

Hearing that word, Bilbo's hope left him and his shoulders sagged. Love was an emotion that was usually exclusive. He could have dealt with sharing, but this, well, this changed everything. "Kili. You love Kili." He breathed out, all fight in him lost. "Of course you do. He's a good man, easy on the eye too. Difficult not to love. Ori's fond of him similarly, although I think he doesn't realize anyone knows. You might want to keep it a secret of you plan on pursuing him though." He bit on his lip and looked away. 

"But that's just it, isn't it?" Fili put his hand over Bilbo's. "It's forbidden, and it's foolish. He's my brother. And to lead him on would only cause us both pain. A good man—a wise man—would end it now. What would you do, Bilbo, if you were me?" 

"My advice would be worthless to you," said Bilbo, not louder than a whisper. "Given that he feels the same, I'd get involved only as far as to share your feelings without having to put a label on it. But if he doesn't know, it's more merciful not to tell him. Does he know you love him?" 

"I feel certain he does," Fili admitted. "We've already kissed." Fili felt awful, for at that moment he felt a very strong inclination to kiss Bilbo. The urge filled him with self-loathing and hope simultaneously—a very poor combination. “Coming out here," he murmured, "was a bad idea. You," he ran his fingers down the length of Bilbo's arm, "you need to put this arm back in its sling and stop pushing me around. You'll only aggravate your injuries, Bilbo." 

"I've got time to heal," insisted Bilbo. "What will you do? You must know I wouldn't be averse to sharing, if you think that's one way out of the situation." 

Fili chuckled dryly. "Sharing? I don't know what you mean. You mean…" and he blushed furiously, as an image of Kili and Bilbo, naked and writhing, on either side of him, filled his head. "Y-you should take me back to the ward," he swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Bilbo sighed. "Well, let's go then." He got up to his feet and started pushing the wheelchair back, all the while keeping quiet. He wasn't sure what to think of the conversation they had just had; Bilbo was sure about what he wanted, but Fili didn't look like he knew what to do either, and if Bilbo were honest, he felt that he didn't have the heart to suggest something of the like to Kili right now. 

He returned his friend to his spot next to Thranduil's bed, then bowed his head. "I should leave you alone for a bit. Good night, Fili." 

"Wait." Fili's hand shot out and latched onto Bilbo's as the man started to walk away. "I want you to know that I think very fondly of you. I—I know there's someone out there who's right for you—someone not as screwed up as I am. Someone you deserve. And that person...is very lucky." 

Bilbo pulled a face. "Just tell it to me straight," he whispered, "because that's a really lame thing to say." He inclined his head, looked around if anyone had seen them, and kindly pulled his hand back. It was not fair for Fili to tell him he had two people on his mind, only to end the conversation by hoping Bilbo found someone else. "I should get some rest as well. Let's go back to being friends tomorrow, okay?" 

"Lame?" Fili's face fell. "I'm sorry, Bilbo. I was trying to be nice." Overwhelmed by the events of the past few days, he turned in on himself and looked down at his lap so that Bilbo wouldn't see his tears. "Goodnight," he whispered, rolling his chair closer to Thranduil's bed. 

No matter what Bilbo would say, it wouldn't make things better. He nodded again, more politeness than anything else, and backed away before leaving the ward. His arm needed to rest, though he could do that in his bed in the guest quarters just the same. He didn't want to stay where they both needed some space.


	24. You Don't Come Second to Anyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Fili have a heart to heart talk. Kili comes to terms with all the killing he did. Ori makes his move.

Thranduil stirred but didn't open his eyes. His neck was fully bandaged. He looked like he might not make it through the night, the way all color had drained from his face. Thorin was poorly asleep on the plastic chair next to him—looking like he didn't want to sleep at all—and Legolas was on the other side.

A long exhale informed Fili that Thranduil was not in fact asleep.

Fili rolled himself closer to Thranduil's bedside, reaching for his hand. "Dad?" he whispered "You should be sleeping. Are you in pain?"

"Yes," Thranduil spoke almost inaudibly through a swollen throat. "Which means, unfortunately, that sleep is impossible for me. Why are you up yourself? The same with your feet?"

"Just keeping an eye on you guys," Fili told him, leaning over to kiss Thranduil's forehead. "Can I get the doctor, see if there's something he can give you for the pain?" He raised his head to look around for Oin or Dr. Bombadil, but saw only Randi dozing in a chair near the door.

"Whatever he has, I'm already on it," smiled Thranduil wearily. His eyes were still closed. "How are the others? How is your brother? And Thorin?" He took a shaky breath. "Kili?"

"Thorin is asleep in a chair, right on your other side," Fili told him, stroking his hair. "You probably shouldn't turn your head though," he smiled, "and Legolas seems to be resting comfortably enough. Kili left for the school awhile ago. He really defended Caledonia tonight, Dad. You would have been proud of him. I know I was."

Thranduil peaked an eye open. The movement was accompanied by a faint gesture and a tilt of the lips. "He did great, that he did. I will talk to him when I can. And what of Mr. Bilbo, who just brought you back, son? How is he doing?"

"He's still sore from his encounter the other day," Fili said with a fond smile, "but he'd never tell you that. He's quite a guy. We'll be lucky if he decides to stay here with us...but I couldn't blame him for going back to Bag End." 

When Thranduil grunted again in pain, Fili said, "I'll be right back, Dad." He rolled carefully over to Randi, gently shaking her awake. "Do you have anything made up for pain?" he asked when she opened her eyes. "I saw you mixing some medicine earlier. My father is suffering."

She blinked awake and looked over at Thranduil, then worried her lip. "Your father is Thranduil, right? I really should not be giving him more medicine, he's had more than enough for the upcoming day." Though when she saw Fili's concern and remembered how much she owed him for his negotiations, he got up to her feet nonetheless. "But I could take a look to see how he's doing for you, couldn't I?"

That expectation to find nothing out of the ordinary changed when she took one look at the wound under the bandage. Randi sucked in a still breath. She turned to Fili and whispered very quietly, so as not to wake either Thorin or Legolas and bring chaos upon the ward, "His wound is swelling. Can you wake the little one?" She pointed to Ori. "I need clean bandages."

"I can bandage him." Fili tried to get a look at Thranduil's injury. "He cared for me when I was young and badly injured. I can certainly care for him now. I'm not squeamish. Let Ori rest. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"You're in a wheelchair," Randi pointed out the obvious. She stopped with what could have been a veritable list of reasons why Ori needed to wake when she saw that Fili wouldn't back down. "A basin of water, disinfectant and fresh towels," she said. "Can you bring me those? Please don't wake anyone up. It's been very hard getting them all to rest."

It took Fili longer than a normal person to bring Randi what she needed. In fact, the basin of water proved to be his undoing. It wouldn't stay flat on his lap when he started rolling and he wound up with a wet lap and stomach. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her when she came to get the basin. "I don't want to be a burden. I want to do all I can for him."

The bite mark on Thranduil's neck was angry and red around Randi's neat stitches. "This must have been painful," he tried to engage Thranduil to keep his mind off what Randi was doing. "Smaug was terrifying. I was only with him a few moments and it was more than enough for me."

Thranduil's head rolled onto his cheek to look at his son. "Legolas or Bard killed him. The details are hazy, but I'm certain of his death. He is over, Fili. How long it takes for me to heal, it'll be worth every minute." His eyes closed again. "I am proud of what you did here. Things are about to change, aren't they?" He gestured at Randi while trying not to move too much. "I think we might have to get used to new people around here. Is she doing well?"

"She's brilliant," Fili said without hesitation. "She stitched you up and didn't bat an eyelash. She took care of Legolas as well, but only after we medicated him," he smiled. "She's quite knowledgeable when it comes to herbal remedies. We're going to need someone like that. Most of the meds we have around here have long outlived their shelf life."

He smiled over Thranduil's chest at Randi. "We learned that Mil comes from a long line of bricklayers. His father was teaching him the trade when the war came. He was only small, but he says he remembers most of it. There's enough building material over in Erebor for us to build a lot of houses on the outskirts. And Bilbo is eager to help enlarge the gardens and fields, I think. What about Thorin? Do you think you've convinced him to stay?"

"Perhaps," said Thranduil. He winced when Randi started to clean the wounds, and worried about the stench that came from the towels. A bite wound could easily become infected. "Erebor is free of Smaug now. If I know him well enough, I know that he will want to go eventually. When he does, he will do so regardless of me. But we can both work around it."

"He seems very, very attached to you," Fili said softly, so that only Thranduil could hear. "I doubt that if he does leave, he'll stay away long. Dad, I..."

Thranduil looked at his son to encourage him. "Do your want me to ask Randi to give us a moment?"

"I'm done here anyway," Randi told them, carefully smoothing the tape along Thranduil's throat with deft fingers. "If that smell comes back, don't wait to let me know, okay?" she smiled. "Infection is nothing to fool with. Just ask your son here."

"She's right," Fili told him. "Thanks, Randi. I'm glad you're here. I hope you enjoy life in Caledonia as much as I have."

After she'd gone across the room, checking on other patients as she left, Fili turned to his father. He struggled with what to say. "Dad…I've been having _feelings_ for someone. I wanted to tell you because, in case—well, you know…" _In case you took a turn for the worse and died._ Fili couldn't bear to say it.

In the silence of the room, Thranduil smiled sagely. "Follow your heart, son," he simply said. "It is your life to live. Respect the people around you, but do not let their opinions tell you what to do with it, do you understand?" He closed his eyes again, pulling his sheets up over his shoulders, and all at once he did not look like the authority of the city but merely a wounded man with his son by his side. "I know you well enough to know you wouldn't need my advice about what to do with your heart."

"I guess," Fili helped Thranduil, pulling a blanket up over him as well, "what I'm not asking for is your advice, but your permission. I've come to love Kili, Dad. And he loves me too. You understand what I'm saying? I want him...romantically."

"So it's true," mused his dad. "It's not the easiest path to take, I ought to warn you. If you choose to take it nonetheless, then that is the road you take." He reached to touch the bandage and check if it was properly secured, then glanced at Thorin. "We were starting to suspect it, Fee. If you think you love him, you follow your heart. Just do it tactfully, do you promise? Don't let people just find out, but tell them before they can form their opinions."

"I don't want to live a life of secrets," Fili whispered. "I have credence with these people—especially after the negotiations last night. What are they going to think of me if it's learned I'm having relations with my little brother?" A tear rolled down his cheek, and he swiped it away. "You should sleep," he told Thranduil. "I'm sorry to have burdened you. I'll stay here and keep watch over you, just as you did when I was badly injured. I promise."

"Oh Fee. Their thoughts should be unimportant to your decisions." Thranduil did not want to tell Fili that while everyone seemed to respect Fili for his negotiations, the new Orc part of the population did not extend that kindness to the man responsible for killing their kin. It was something that would only hold Fili back. "I don't suppose Legolas will like it when I choose Thorin, nor will I like whoever he finally brings home. Whoever it is, that person will never be good enough for my son. That doesn't mean we shouldn't make those decisions based on other people's opinions and deprive ourselves of our own happiness."

With a last smile, Thranduil made himself more comfortable and closed his eyes. "Perhaps what you need is to sleep on it too," advised he through a sleepy murmur. "Go to bed, Son."

But Fili knew sleep would be a long time coming. He watched Thranduil's breath even out as he fell asleep and felt confident that he wasn't going to lose his father that night. 

He couldn't stop thinking about Bilbo—a catch by any standards; bright, gifted, adorable. And yet it was Kili whom his heart wanted him to choose. Was he setting himself and Kili up for disappointment? Should he even be focusing on such things as his own happiness when his town was in turmoil and he had the safety of everyone involved to think about?

Ah, that was it. He needed to focus on helping Caledonia get back on her feet. It would take his mind off the pain and fear in his heart. 

Legolas was sound asleep in his bed, as was their father. Thorin slept a bit more fitfully in the chair next to Thranduil's bed, probably due to the discomfort. The ward was mostly quiet except for the snoring of one of the injured men from Erebor who lay across the way.

As the clock climbed towards 5 a.m., Fili began to think that maybe he could take a little nap. He rolled his chair to a spot out of the way where he could see both Legolas and Thranduil easily. He took the spare blanket from the bottom of Legolas' bed and pulled it up over his own shoulders. That was where Dr. Bombadil found him four hours later, soundly asleep.

That day became the day in which everything was sluggish. Around eleven in the morning, those who could take care of themselves were discharged from the hospital, leaving more space for the men and women who needed it. Yet none were strong enough to start rebuilding already. The Caledonian people were, in general, untrusting of the Orcs with their many otherworldly body decorations, not the least of which were several men with grotesque metal nodes protruding from their skin. But nobody wanted to pick a fight.

Both Thranduil and Thorin remained in the hospital, which meant that others had to step in to answer questions. And oh, questions there were. Nobody was convinced about what to do with the situation.

Bard disappeared into the woods shortly after breakfast. He wasn't missed until hours later. 

But everyone wanted to speak to Fili. It was exhausting.

\- - - - -

Ori wrung out the last of the towels in the courtyard behind the hospital, hanging it out to dry. Then when he could do no more, he headed down to the cafeteria, acquired breakfast for two, and took the food back to he and Kili’s room at the school.

"Morning," he muffled, entering what had become their room with an egg sandwich in each hand. "Sorry I was away so long. The hospital was pretty crazy last night. I hope you're hungry. These egg and cheese sandwiches are incredible!"

All the while, Kili was draped face-forward over the mattress limply. "What time is it?" he groaned, unaware that only his mother had ever bothered trying to get him up on time and that he didn't have to get up that day. But as soon as the smell of fresh bread wafted into his system, he perched up. "You have one for me?"

"It's nearly noon, hero," Ori sat down on the edge of his bed. "I'm sorry, I haven't got a plate. That pinched-faced fellow who serves the food wouldn't give me one. But I'm probably the most germ-free person in Caledonia. I must have washed my hands thirty times last night, and I spent the morning handling hot towels." 

He handed a sandwich to Kili once he sat up. "We didn't lose a single patient," Ori announced proudly. "You know, I think I might want to continue working in the medical building if they need me, if we decide to stay here."

Pulling his legs up under him, Kili dug in with a ravenous hunger. He scowled at the nickname, but otherwise only had any attention for the meal in his hands. When that was nearly done, he looked up at Ori and said between bites, "You should stay here. It's the best place to be."

"What about you?" Ori smiled at Kili's obvious enjoyment of the food. "Do you want to stay?"

"Don't know," shrugged the brunet. He took another bite not to have to look at his friend. "Some things make me want to stay. Others...I don't know."

"What's giving you pause?" Ori wondered around a mouthful of food. "Is it the Orcs?"

Kili pursed his lips. "I still remember every one of them. Fourteen, Ori. I killed fourteen people yesterday. I don't want to go out that door. It'll only remind me of what I did again." He was fighting hard to keep himself together. "Fili is a hero. Me, I'm a murderer. My mother would be so disappointed, Ori. I never wanted to kill any of them. It's not even my war."

"Fourteen?" Ori put his sandwich down primly on the table next to his bed. "That many? I thought maybe three...four." He bit his lip and looked down. "But your mom...well, I never knew her, of course, but I don't think she'd be disappointed. You were following your instinct to protect the man you love. To protect your friends. And a town that you're soon to be a citizen of. You chose a side and you defended it, Kili. You killed people who had taken over the place where your mother grew up. She'd be _very_ proud of you. I know I am. I'm in awe of you. I kinda have been since we met, I guess." He blushed. "You shouldn't be ashamed, you know. You could have died. Fili could have died. Those sweet kids at the school; have you thought about them? You defended the way of life in Caledonia. It's what you were born to do—help these people defend their home. Help your Uncle find what he really came after—which I don't think was Erebor at all, considering his past with that Thranduil."

"I killed them because they would kill others," Kili snapped. He did not like Ori trying to make what he did sound less bad; he had killed people, and it was the gravest offense. "You, Fili. Maybe Thorin. Me. I can't stop thinking about their faces. You weren't there, you couldn't know. They begged me to help them, Ori. I tried to only incapacitate them at first, and they wouldn't stop coming at me. But once I hurt them bad enough, when they were beyond help, they begged me to save them." His hands shook and his tears spilled over. "That's no way for anyone to go."

"I'm sorry," Ori got up and moved to sit next to Kili on his bed. "I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through. Dwalin used to be a policeman, you know. Back before the bombs fell, people had what was called a justice system—people whose job it was to enforce the laws of the land. If someone stole, raped, even murdered, he'd be brought before a group of his peers and his fate decided. But back then there were a hell of a lot more people. And people live more dangerously now. We have to deal with things when they happen, Kili. Deal with them in the best way we know how. And you did. I've only killed one person, it's true, so I don't really know exactly how you feel. But I will never forget his face."

In the solitude of the room, in Ori's arms, Kili finally broke. The emotions he had kept inside since doing what he had done were spilling out in a wailing sob. He hated himself for the things he had done. His mother would never have liked it, and her opinion continued to matter to him, for it was his only manual in this world on how to live a good life. "What do I do now?" he sobbed. "I don't want to stay here. I see them everywhere. But you're here, and Thorin is. Fili is."

"Does it matter what we want?" Ori pulled Kili to a lying down position, his head on Ori's chest. Ori stroked his hair. "You need to be where you can make a good life and be happy. Maybe we could go back to Bag End with Bilbo. It seemed so peaceful and safe there. I want to be where you are, Kili."

"Bag End would be nice," Kili nodded. "Just somewhere else." He was still shaking, his legs up under him, generally looking like a big mess. "Would Fili be there, Ori?"

"Do you really think he'd leave here?" Ori stated the obvious. "Especially after what he did last night?"

"...No." That upset Kili more. "They love him. He won't come. But I can't—I can't stay, Ori."

"I'll go wherever you go," Ori told him solemnly. His words conveyed far more than just solidarity. "I mean that, Kili. I know you love Fili. Anyone who doesn't see it is blind. But I'd like to go with you, wherever you go. I've come to be very fond of you, Kili." He leaned down and lay a tentative kiss on Kili's lips.

The action was unexpected, and Kili had to process it first before he could draw away to look at Ori. Ori loved him. It made him sad and yet stronger at the same time, despite not being able to reply to it. "I would be happy to have you by my side," he tried, rather confused. Kili loved Fili with all his heart and did not want to give Ori any wrong ideas, but he was nonetheless happy to have him here in the room with him. Perhaps he simply loved him differently. "Wouldn't you miss Dwalin?"

Ori's face broke into the most genuine smile Kili had yet seen on his face. "Dwalin and me...we're _close,_ obviously. And of course I'd miss him. But we both sort of have an understanding that what we have is just, you know, for fun. He lost his wife in the war. He's always been a ladies' man. I'm not sure why the hell he chose me. Maybe she knitted too," he chuckled fondly. "At any rate, take your time before you make a decision. It's certainly safe here, and I won't lie about liking it. But I wouldn't like it nearly so much without you."

"I don't want to leave it either," admitted his friend quietly. "Thank you. I'm happy to have you here with me. It means a lot that if I'd leave, I wouldn't have to miss you too." It gave him a way out, where before there had been a dead end alone. Kili hugged Ori closely. "I'm so happy I got to meet you. Dwalin is a fool if that's all he thinks of you. You're so much more than someone who knits. You helped so many people yesterday."

It would be so easy for him to jump from that sentiment into another crying session, but Ori didn't deserve that. "How is the city?" Kili asked instead. "Are they going to rebuild?"

"I shouldn't speak for Dwalin," Ori corrected himself. "I can only speak for me. I certainly love him, Kili. I mean, look at all the attention he pays me. Me!" Ori shrugged, as if he couldn't understand how he was worth the effort. "I know he cares for me. And me him. But...well, I can't help having feelings for you, can I? And there's so much more of you to discover, of that I'm sure. I can’t help being curious." 

Ori smoothed down the blankets with one hand. "I think the plan is to take a wagon to Erebor and gather some of the fallen brick from the buildings there, and work on building some new homes. I overheard just a little, mind you."

"They are rebuilding Erebor already?" In the face of having to respond to Ori's feelings eventually, it was easier for Kili to take the easy road while giving himself time to think about how to handle it. But his interest wasn't feigned, for how could they be thinking of rebuilding already? "Does that mean they're absolutely certain nobody is still there?"

Ori shook his head. "No, not rebuilding Erebor. Fili wants to send crews to Erebor and bring the material from all the devastated buildings back here—bricks and the like—to help build shelters for all the new people and those who lost their homes to the fires. Apparently one of the new guys knows how to mix up mortar and is a bricklayer." He frowned and looked away. "You remember what it was like there. It was a mess, but there certainly were plenty of usable bricks. Apparently, your brother's brain started working the moment he saw them."

"Ah." Somehow, it was too big a change for Kili, and he responded accordingly demure. He wished Fili were here, not out there being the perfect hero to everyone. It made him feel like he had to compare. "That is fast. What will you do? Will you help build houses for the Orcs? Are they still the Orcs, if they live here?"

"I suppose it's not right to refer to them as Orcs anymore, is it?" Ori mused. "We're all just people, after all. My plan was to start helping out in the infirmary. I want to learn about herbs from that Randi woman. She's very interesting. And she wants to learn to knit, so it's a fair trade, I guess. Bombur's already been snooping around the kitchen at the school trying to get a job. The kids seem to love Bofur and he can't wait to start making them toys. Everyone seems really excited about staying."

"But I told you," Ori's eyes darkened, "if you leave, I'll go with you. I wasn't kidding."

His friend's shoulders hung lower. "That would make me feel guilty for dragging you with me." Ori clearly loved this place. He shifted on the bed, swallowed the last bit of his sandwich, and looked around for clothing. Though he was loath to go anywhere, Kili thought that maybe a walk outside of town would do him good. Fresh air would at least be welcome. He would love to see Fili, but the man would probably be too busy. "What are you doing today?" he asked, a casual inquiry after Ori's readiness for tagging along.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about those hot springs," Ori told him. "I want to go back out there and soak until I look like a prune. Then, I wouldn't mind seeing those kids again. Maybe playing. Y'know, just having fun. Do you want to come along?"

When he said that, Ori had Kili hooked. The hot springs were well out of the city, and those children's faces would be able to put a smile to his lips from the thought alone. "Am I allowed?"

Ori shrugged. "We're not prisoners anymore, Kili. This can be our home too, if you let it."

He leaned forward and took hold of the two tendrils at the side of Kili's face, pulling them gently up, around and behind his head. "You know, you should consider wearing it like that...with a clasp or something. It makes your eyes look huge." Then he blushed, returning the hair to its original position. "At any rate, you don't need much help to be better looking. It's me who's beyond help."

Demonstratively, Kili took the tendrils and tied them together with a leather string. "If you like it, then I'll wear it like this." He smiled at Ori. "You're my best friend, Ori. I'm sorry that you have to see me in love with someone else, but that doesn't mean you come second. You don't come second to anyone."

He climbed off the bed and got to his feet, then stretched like he had slept a hundred years. With the other man by his side, he felt more confident to be able to go outside and start picking up the pieces. A small flicker told him he had no rights of a good life after having ended so many, but Ori didn't seem to think so, and that made Kili believe there was hope for him yet.

\- - - - -

The hot springs were not empty when they got there. Bombur, Bofur and Bifur had already found their way to the baths, and several of the recovering men from the town had gathered to relax. Kili kept his eyes averted from anyone while undressing and getting in the water. He moved away from the others to avoid conversation.

Ori's feet dragged while they walked to the hot springs. _Best friend._ He huffed in annoyance.

_I'm sorry that you have to see me in love with someone else, but that doesn't mean you come second._

Kili's words echoed in his head and stabbed into his heart.

_That's exactly what it means,_ he thought sadly. Even though he had defended Kili's life. Even though he had been vainly trying to win his affection since the moment they'd met. Even though Fili, the object of Kili's affection, had woken up in another man's arms that morning. Even though Fili was Kili's goddamn _brother._ That was what hurt the most.

Numb fingers opened his buttons and slid off his clothing. It didn't matter how he looked under them. His pink scars meant nothing to Kili. Ori actually remembered little more from the day he was burned other than a bright flash of light and intense pain. He had been three years old. He just remembered the bandages around his wrists and waist for months until the injuries healed. They had itched and hampered his running and playing. But he was always told to be quiet anyway, so it didn’t really matter much. It was at that early age that an old woman they were staying with had taught him how to knit.

As he entered the water, the heat began to unknit muscles he hadn't realized he was tensing. He sank below the surface into that womb-like warmth and floated in the silence. At least there he could pretend things were working out in his favor. He didn't come back up until his lungs screamed for oxygen.

When he did, Kili was looking at him with worry. He managed to hide it fast enough, but Kili had never in his life needed to go under the water for that long; he didn't know he could. Only when nobody else paid Ori attention did he understand that it had to be common, and so he heaved in a breath and tried for himself.

When he came up, he was gasping for breath. "Why'd you do that?" he asked. There was nothing fun about the feeling of nearly drowning

"I just..." Ori's chest heaved, "I wanted to shut out the world for a bit, that's all. You know there's books and papers written about man's constant desire to return to the womb. It's really quite restful. The silence, the pressure, the floating, the warmth..." He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. "It feels good."

Kili smiled. Ori might not like him for saying it, but he looked like a drowned rat with his hair like that, and Kili thought it was adorable. "I felt like I was dying. It doesn't feel that good to me. Is it why you curl up in bed though? Does that have anything to do with it?"

"Dori," Ori chuckled, smiling fondly at the memory, "he likes to get all analytical about it. He says that if there were doctors around today who knew anything about it that I'd probably be diagnosed with autism, because I enjoy deep pressure. It apparently explains my extreme fondness for sweaters. Or it could have something to do with the fact that I was raised without a Mom, and I tend to seek comfort. Who knows? More importantly, who cares?" Ori shrugged, reaching for the soap.

"Dori is a bit like your mom," Kili shrugged. "Of course he'd care. I care, though I have no idea what autism is." He thought about that, then rephrased, "I care, but it doesn't matter I suppose." Then he leaned back into the water.

The heat was soothing, and the small drizzle of rain, hovering in the air like a mist, made him feel peaceful. For a while he was able to forget all that had happened, and it was like he'd just got here.

Of course that bit of heaven was disrupted when more people decided to have the same idea. Within half an hour, the place was what he considered very crowded, and Kili proposed to visit the school.

"They should really segregate these hot springs by gender," Ori muttered under his breath, slipping as quickly as possible into his clothing. "I don't like being gawked at."

"At least you aren't a wrinkled old fossil like me," commented an elderly man lounging nearby, very unselfconscious about his nudity. "Once you reach my age, you won't care so much, laddie."

Ori smiled at him gratefully. "I can't believe these kids are still at the school today, after such a tragedy," he related to Kili as they left the springs behind. "But I suppose the normalcy of a routine is good for them."

When they reached the school, Ori wasn't surprised that Kili led them to Fili's classroom first. Ori had expected the blond might be with his family at the hospital, but they did find him there, Arwyn sat on Fili's lap in the wheelchair, and he read her a story as the rest of the class drew pictures and listened.

"Red Riding Hood carried until the great trough was quite full," Fili continued reading, unaware of their presence. "Then the smell of the sausages reached the wolf, and he sniffed and peeped down, and at last stretched out his neck so far that he could no longer keep his footing and began to slip, and slipped down from the roof straight into the great trough, and was drowned. But Red Riding Hood went joyously home, and no one ever did anything to harm her again."

He closed the book on his lap and Arwyn leaned in and snuggled him. "The wolf died. She's safe."

"Yes," Fili affirmed, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "We all are."

Kili, who had quite anticipated seeing Fili again, got a lump in his throat at the metaphor and instantly walked away again. He left Ori standing in the doorway.

It wasn't fair. Why did people have to die for others to be safe? It was a law of nature, but weren't they _men_? Didn't they have culture and rules to make things more orderly? Even so, why was murder inexcusable in peace but required and praised in war?

Kili felt like a pendulum, swinging from one emotion to the next. The silliest things could trigger it. This time it was Little Red Riding Hood. His mother had told him the story as a kid, and he knew how it ended.

"I'm sorry," he muttered to Ori and escaped.

Neither Fili nor the children had seen them standing there. Ori turned and chased after the distraught brunet. "Hey..." he whispered loudly, chasing Kili down the hallway. "Wait up, Kili! It's just a kids' story!"

"I'm not a fucking hero," hissed Kili, rounding back on Ori when they were far enough. "Murderers aren't heroes."

"Tell that to the people who might have lost their homes or their children, if you hadn't stopped those raiders!" Ori grabbed him by the shoulders. "You _are_ a hero, Kili. Caledonia is in your debt."

"I killed children of people too! Don't you get it? I'm sure there were husbands or wives, parents maybe. They were somebody's friend. Nobody owes me anything, Ori, and I'm not a hero. I killed. I just—I killed people!"

Kili felt like he was becoming a broken record. He kept coming back to that same conclusion. He had hoped the children would have helped, but that story...

"You did," Ori conceded. "You killed people. People about to hurt or kill other people. Good, innocent people. You did what had to be done—what others couldn't. I'm sorry for how it's affecting you, Kili," Ori lay his forehead against his friend. "But I'm glad for what you did."

Kili broke into tears then. Finally, someone echoed what he had been feeling. He was thankful of his friend finally voicing that which had continued to occupy his thoughts, that it wasn't a good thing that had been done; that it was all painfully terrible. Of course, that brought his guilt to the front line once again, and he clutched Ori's frame while he cried without reserve, the sound of it heartbreaking.

Kili didn't know how long he stood there, but at last he fell into hiccups and gradually quieted down. The tension in his limbs abated bit by bit.

"I think," breathed he unsteadily, "I think I need to see the Orcs. They deserve an apology at least. Will you go with me?"

Glad to be holding Kili so closely, regardless of the circumstances, Ori stroked his hair soothingly. "Do you really feel you need to?" he wondered. "In all the confusion, I doubt any of the remaining Orcs remembers it was you who killed those people. Those who saw you up close—well, they're dead. Anyhow, it might be too soon for an apology, don't you think?"

"You really think nobody knows it was me?" Kili sniffed. "Is it bad if I really like that idea?"

"I think you should be glad for it, Kili," Ori patted him on the arm. "Enjoy being alive. Enjoy all the new friends you've made and the delicious food and safety we enjoy here. Enjoy that you are loved."

There was that doubt about whether Kili thought he deserved to be loved, but he enjoyed it without a doubt. He pulled Ori closer and breathed out, pulling himself together. "All right, maybe later. Want to try a second attempt at seeing the children?"

A feeling of exhilaration ran through Ori. "Whatever you want," Ori said agreeably. "I have no plans until later this evening. Randi's going to teach some of us about herbs then."

"Herbs? They have someone who knows herbs?" The thought was foreign, to someone who had viewed the entire Orc population residing in Erebor as warriors or desperate men who wanted food. And Erebor was a desolation, so it struck him as odd that someone knew about edible herbs. "I..." he started, bit back the sentence, but came out with it anyway. "If I sit in the back, do you think I could come too? Mom used to know a lot about herbs. She's not—does she know people that have died?" All the while Kili allowed Ori to tug him in the direction of the classroom, and hoped for a negative.

Ori shrugged. "They all lived in Erebor. I'm sure she knew most of them. But remember, they served Smaug. She wanted out. The medicine here in Caledonia—the stuff leftover from before the Dragonfire—it's going bad. Randi knows about medicinal herbs. That's what we're going there to learn."

"And for her to get the supplies," Kili surmised.

He was more stable on his feet by the time they got back to the classroom. This time the kids were working on a drawing. Save for a few giggles and some laughter, most seemed intensely focused on the task at hand, crayons in hand and tongues peeping out.

Kili wondered if Fili noticed them, but he didn't want to draw his attention explicitly. The kids made him feel more balanced, regardless, and he could stand there for an hour doing nothing and be okay with that.

"We have visitors!" Fili's voice called out over the whispers and fidgeting. "Our friends from out of town are back!"

At once the kids erupted into happy giggles and a cacophony of greetings.

"Will you play ball with us again, mister?" one little boy tugged on Ori's sleeve.

"Only if Fee says it's all right," Ori said with a smile.

"Hi," Fili smiled at Kili, rolling his wheelchair towards him. "You look well rested."

"Hardly," smiled his brother apologetically, who was visibly livening up nonetheless. He looked the wheelchair over. "Can't be as bad as your night. How long did Dr. Bombadil say do I have to wait to get you to sneak out with me?" He made sure he said it quietly enough, and smiled angelically when a girl he remembered as Maddy looked up at him with big eyes. The children in Caledonia made him feel like there was hope left for mankind. They hadn't yet seen the horrors of the world, and he wanted to make sure they never would. They simply laughed and saw the world with amazement. They made him forget about the deaths.

"How are you, really?" Kili asked as he watched Ori in the center of a giggling mass of attention. "Do you think it's finally over?"

"I think the _worst_ is over," Fili said, in a voice that wouldn't alarm any of the kids that were listening—although most had crowded around Ori, who was showing them some sort of game involving a circular piece of yarn intertwined on his long, agile fingers. "But do I feel like all the problems of the world have been solved? No. But big strides have been made," he assured Kili. "Tom wants me to stay off my feet for a full week this time. It'll go quickly, I hope. What brings you two here?"

"I needed to be somewhere else," Kili replied, his eyes at the floor and his toes digging into it. "Do you want me to help move you around while you're in the wheelchair?" He hoped they could go for a walk, or perhaps somewhere else.

"I haven't been able to tend to the chickens today," Fili told him. "I can't reach the top tiers of the hen house to check for eggs. It's been eating at me all morning," he confessed with a soft laugh. "Would you like to go there with me in a bit, when the kids break for lunch?"

Kili nodded. He laughed when one of the kids took Ori's ball of yarn and Ori had to work hard, two knitting needles in his hands, to keep the ball in his vicinity. The other kids soon came to his aid, and nothing was lost, though the boy with the yarn quickly confessed that he wanted Ori to make him something, but he didn't have yarn for himself.

"I'd like that," Kili said to Fili. He smiled at him warmly. "It's good to be here. I hope nobody noticed what happened. It would be nice if things could continue to be like this." His eyes scanned the classroom. "Where is Max?"

"He's with his parents," Fili told him, and their eyes met meaningfully. "He met his father and grandfather for the first time this morning."

The jolt that passed through Kili was involuntary. He pulled himself together, straightened his back, and tried to nod in a knowing fashion without giving too much away. "It’s hard to believe Azog is a grandfather. I never knew mine. Mom and Thorin didn't talk about him much. It must be great, to find out your grandfather is still alive."

"If Azog were my grandfather, perhaps not," Fili looked down at his lap. "But Max doesn't know about Azog's past, and Azog, despite his past atrocities, seems to want to change his ways. Mind you, I don't really trust him. How could I?"

"You can't. He's done unspeakable things to you." One only needed to look at Fili's feet to feel an inclination to detest Azog, and Kili could never forgive him for poisoning Fili. He rubbed his brother's shoulder soothingly. When nobody was watching, he quietly admitted, "I missed you. I was terrified when we found out they took you, and when you were back...I've never had such strong feelings about anyone, Fili. I don't know what to do with them."

Fili reached up and squeezed Kili's hand warmly. "When I woke up and you and Ori were in that room with me, I was terrified. I didn't want to lose you, especially if I had to watch him kill you. Azog has insisted that the bomb collar he had on me wasn't real—that the explosive went bad long ago. He claims he only fed me enough nightshade for show. But does that make it any better? He still did all those other things, before the Dragonfire. Are we supposed to forget about it all?"

Kili held onto his hand, a frown on his features. "I'm afraid he'll fall back into his habits. He needs us now. They have no food and no other options, but what happens when they've become independent? They've always been violent, haven't they been? I'm worried about when that time comes. They're not farmers, that's for sure. I don't think they're craftsmen either. What I see when I look at them is warriors."

"They were warriors because they had to be,” Fili posited. “Many of these people were citizens of Erebor before the war. They were no more violent than you or I. But they learned that way of life, over time. They could just as easily unlearn it, couldn't they?" Fili said hopefully. "I'm banking on that. I'm banking on their desire for safety and protection to win out. I can't wait to see what skills they bring. Thorin says he remembers many of them."

Fili smiled fondly as Ori disappeared, tackled by several of the children.

"If that would be possible, everyone would win, wouldn't they?"

The past days had made Kili more careful of what he said and did, and it showed. He looked slightly more mature, standing there—more quiet and less eager to do something spontaneous, too. Kili was very aware of that, but he didn't want Fili to see it out of fear that Fili might not like what he saw, so he forced a sunnier mood than truly reflected his emotions.

"How would you kids feel about Mr. Ori hanging out here with you for a bit?" Fili called out over the din.

Ori cast him a terrified look.

"Oh, Ori," Fili smiled, "don't worry. They don't bite. Well, one of the twins used to, but he's well over that now, aren't you, Elohir?" Fili rolled his way over to Ori. "Just let them draw and play until lunchtime. It's only twenty minutes away. Then walk them to the cafeteria to meet their parents."

Awed to be given such responsibility, Ori agreed. "All right," he smiled. Then he called out, "Who wants to learn to play Monkey in the Middle?"

"He's a natural with kids," Fili told Kili as they left to head down the hall and out to the chicken run.

Kili looked over his shoulder and couldn't help but acquiesce. Anything Ori attempted, he was good at. He might not be the most visible man in a crowd, but Kili was proud to call him a friend. "He is," he smiled.


	25. Worth Killing For, and Worth Dying For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili struggles with the violence he'd perpetrated. Randi comes to terms with living in Caledonia.

They took their time making it to the chicken house. Kili was in no hurry, simply enjoying the silence. He was afraid to look out the window and witness the effects of last night's siege though, so he focused on Fili—the way he moved, the way he breathed and, unfortunately, the way he winced whenever his foot moved. Azog had really hurt him badly. 

The chicken run, on the contrary, was a loud cackle of chickens carelessly cluttering about. The peeps had grown since last time they had been there together, and were not at all shy. They fluttered around Kili's feet and Fili's wheelchair, pausing only shortly to stop at the odd wheels before deciding they weren't a threat and so they didn't care. 

Kili walked up to the tiers. "Which ones?" asked he. 

"The top two rows, if you can," Fili pointed towards a nearby basket. "If there's a hen in the basket, just slip your hand, palm up, under her. They won't hurt you. Well, maybe a little peck," he smiled. "After all, you are touching their butts. If you find an egg, put it in the basket gently," he advised. "When you're done, we can run them to the cafeteria for breakfast tomorrow. And have some lunch ourselves, I hope." 

Standing on tiptoe for the top tier, Kili did as instructed. He was fine for the few baskets that were empty, and avoided all the hens with some trepidation until there simply was no way around it anymore. 

The first hen allowed him to collect her eggs. However, the second one turned her beady eyes on Kili indignantly, let out a squawk and pecked, and Kili pulled away in a reflex, sending the egg out of his desperate fumble and onto the floor. He gasped, cringed, and dared not turn around to face Fili, mumbling, "...Sorry." 

"It doesn't hurt; I swear," Fili couldn't hide his grin. "It's like being poked with a little finger, that's all. Don't let her think she has the upper hand. She doesn't even _have_ hands." 

"But she's vicious," Kili huffed. Adamant that the chicken wasn't going to win, he tried to reach under her again. She pecked him just as easily. "No! That's not fair!" 

"She's a _chicken,_ " Fili chuckled, as if that explained everything. "You could kill her easily with one hand. She knows that. Now, be a man and reach under there!" 

But Kili pulled his hand away at once and stopped trying. He handed the small basket with eggs over to Fili glumly. The atmosphere between them had changed over the course of a second. "We should get going." 

"Kili..." Fili's voice followed him as he started out the door. "What did I say? What is it?" He put down the basket and rolled after him slowly, careful not to run over any peeps. 

The other man waited for him, but didn't otherwise respond. His jaw was tense, his eyes once again directed at his feet. Step by step he carried himself out of the hen house. No trace remained of Kili's cheerfulness. He didn't want to go to the cafeteria with all its rowdy occupants, but to stay was not an option to him. "Sorry," he said again. 

"Kili, talk to me," Fili begged. "I can find someone else to help with the eggs later. What's wrong?" 

"Well, I kill things, don't I?" It was out like a whirlwind before Kili could stop it. "That's what I'm good for. I kill things. I killed people. I could kill livestock. It's not a _nice thing to do_." 

"I..." Fili paused, "I wasn't...I didn't mean anything by it, Kili. I was just trying to help you not to be scared. Is this about what you did last night? Killing those Orcs?" 

"I didn't _want_ to do it!" 

"Well, of course you didn't," Fili sighed. "Anyone who knows you could tell you that. But people and property were in danger. And you stepped in and stopped it. I for one am glad you did. I feel certain that I'd be dead if you hadn't—and my father's home burned to the ground. I hope you aren't feeling guilty about it, Kili. You saved lives. _My_ life." 

When Kili didn't respond, Fili bit his lip. "Would you do it again?" 

"No, of course I wouldn't!" cried Kili back. Later he would be glad that the street was empty. "I never wanted to kill anyone, I—" But while he spoke he processed Fili's words further and backed away, as if his following words physically injured him. "...I would do whatever it takes to protect you. It scares me. I don't want to take people's lives. I see them everywhere. But if that's the only way I could keep you and my family alive..." 

"Dad likes to say from time to time that although the bombs fell long ago, we're still fighting for our lives every day," Fili told him. "I know I'm lucky to live here, where I do. It's worth fighting for, Kili. Worth killing for, and worth dying for. I truly believe that. I hope you won't let this define you." 

"It's something I will hate about myself," Kili replied. He was starting to feel aware that any small reference to the event could upset him. A nuisance to others was not something he wanted to be—not to Ori and not to Fili. Tears were smeared away, but the saltiness remained. "They gave me no choice, I keep telling myself that, sure, but I'm not a killer. To know someone's future was taken from them by your own hands..." He sighed and tried to push the issue away. Kili was getting fed up with himself. "Should I try again and fetch the last eggs?" 

"Would you?" Fili suggested. Anything to put Kili's mind on other subjects. "They go bad if they sit out too long." He chuckled. "I know it sounds stupid, but I take my egg gathering as seriously, as I do working with the kids. I probably shouldn't tell you that I have names for most of the hens. Now, get back in there, and don't let Eloise get the best of you this time." 

"Her name is Eloise? Well, now I feel really stupid." Kili was still shaking slightly, but he smiled at Fili and walked back with him. A chicken named Eloise certainly didn't sound too threatening. In fact, despite her temper, it sounded rather homey. Like a fussy old lady. "What are the others called?" 

He was almost tempted to suggest 'Dori' for one of the new peeps. 

It was dimmer inside the chicken house than outside, but Kili could still see Fili's blush. "The white one next to Eloise is Delilah, and then there's Lucy, Shasta, Petra..." he pointed down the row. "Can you tell I've spent a lot of time alone with them?" 

Kili took a moment to familiarize himself again—if not to gather his courage. He reached up again, stretching to reach the tier. Eloise looked disinclined to move for him, especially after she had successfully fended him off twice before. "Come on," he groaned. "You're making me look bad, and I'm trying to impress someone. Oh no, don't—don't be like that!" 

She pecked him again. 

Fili let out what could only be described as a giggle. "It's sad," he remarked, "that I find this so entertaining. It didn't hurt, did it?" 

Drawing back his hand, Kili looked at the small red mark. It looked more painful than it was. Actually, Fili mocking him stung his pride more than the chicken's beak had hurt his hand. "All right, let's have it with you," he grumbled, promptly picked Eloise up and put her on another basket, before grabbing for the egg. 

When he turned back around to Fili, Kili was grinning smugly and demonstratively put the treasure into the gathering basket on Fili's lap, Eloise indignant behind him. "There you go. Easy." 

"I used to be scared of them too," Fili confessed. He reached for Kili's collar and pulled him down for a kiss, an act which he hoped would help Kili forget his concerns about what'd he'd done the night before. 

He was right about that. Relief washed over the younger as soon as their mouths touched. Kili drew Fili's face against his and kissed him back immediately. 

Fili would never know how worried Kili had been about this, how Kili might have lost him in the midst of everything, or that Fili might not want him anymore, now that Kili was tainted. "Thank god," he sighed, and, to keep matters from progressing to that darker place, "chickens scare me." 

But now Kili wanted to ask Fili if they could stay here awhile. 

"You're adorable," Fili stroked his hair. "I'll see if someone else is able to help me tomorrow. I don't want you to be traumatized. We all have those things that freak us out, I guess. Kili, I..." 

"I can help with the chickens," the other stood his ground, kissing him again. Their lips stuck together shortly when he pulled away short enough to add, "I'll get used to them," and Kili's eyes met Fili's half-lidded. 

I love you," Fili whispered. "Is that all right with you?" 

Lips curved up in a slow smile. Kili nodded. "That is all right." 

He took the eggs from Fili's hands and placed them on the floor, crawled up on the chair until it creaked and his intentions didn't sound like such a good idea anymore, and kissed him again while half off it. 

Kili could have easily given into the awkwardness of his limbs and ruined the moment, but he made sure he recovered by kissing and nipping at Fili's lips until neither of them could think of much else than that. Admittedly, he wasn't the best kisser. His knowledge came from books that emphasized on romance and strange analogies. Kili counted on Fili to show him the ropes, but he wasn't shy about it. "I love you," said he, and knew it to be true with all his heart. 

Fili smiled broadly and encircled Kili with his arms, hugging him tightly. The old wheelchair protested the action, but Fili didn't want to let go. "You're a good man, Kili. Never think differently. My life is going to be so much better with you in it. I have such plans for us." 

"Tell me?" 

How could Kili leave if Fili was here telling him this? How could he consider Bag End? He felt _home_ with him. His heart beat fast, and he felt hot from a strange combination of nervousness and something decidedly less innocent. While Kili listened, his hands traced the golden hair of the man he loved. "I feel like I can do anything when I'm with you." 

"You can," Fili smiled. "We will. I want us to never stop learning. Those books in the library—I want to read them all. I want you to teach me how to use a bow, and I want Ori to teach me how to knit, and I want Bilbo to teach me how to garden. I want you to find something that you enjoy for your trade and I want you to be happy and successful. I want us to build our own home with bricks from Erebor." He stopped breathless. "That'll be for starters." 

"Build our own home?" That had never occurred to Kili. He thought of what it was like to be away from Thorin and from Ori and he didn't like it, but the thought of having something with only Fili was different. Special. Of course he couldn't always stay in the guest quarters if he were to stay here, and Thorin might want more time with Thranduil. Kili definitely wanted more time alone with Fili. "In Caledonia?" he asked. 

"I know it's big," Fili confessed, "living together. I'm just tossing out ideas. But, yes, here in Caledonia, I guess. It's hard for me to imagine being anywhere else. Kili, what do you want to do? Do you want to live in Erebor? Somewhere else?" 

Kili shuffled his feet around to clean the floor and sat down in front of him. His earlier gloom was disappearing quickly at this new subject. Perhaps it was simply the distraction. He refused to think that maybe some things were impossible to attain. "I want to be happy," turned out to be the simplest way of answering. He smiled. "No more fighting. I want the Orcs to accept my apology, but in time. And I just want to be happy with you. Mom would have wanted that for me. If they won't accept it, then maybe Bag End?" 

Fili tilted his head, studying the man in front of him. "Kili, why do you feel you need to apologize? You did what anyone defending their home and family would do." 

Kili focused on his fingers, fidgeting with the hay. "Because I killed family. If they're going to live here, I'll see them every day. They might not know or care, but I do. I owe it to them." He looked up. "You're going to say I did what needed to be done, aren't you? I know I did, but that doesn't change that I keep thinking about it." 

"It's pretty simple, Kili," Fili said with surety, "if you hadn't done it, those people you killed would have kept going—burning everything in their paths and killing every Caledonian they came across. We lost four people, but we would have lost a lot more if you hadn't stepped up. So, yes. It needed to be done. And you were the brave man who stepped up and did it." 

When Kili's eyes again found Fili's, they threatened to again spill. He was fighting the lump in his throat in order not to keep being reduced to tears in front of people whose esteem mattered to him. "All right. But if it keeps hurting...If it does, I think I will have to go. And I don't want to go." 

"I know it hurts," Fili assured him. "When we were going after the men who took Bilbo, on the four-wheelers, I had to slice the legs of those horses. And I know it ended with them having to be put down. Probably eaten. I know it's not the same as killing people, but sometimes I suppose I feel more empathy for animals than I do people. At any rate, there's plenty of guilt to go around, Kili. It's part of war. When those Orcs came here, carrying out Smaug's wishes, they had to know it was going to end badly for them. They had already lost their children and their self-respect. The only that they had left to lose was their lives." 

Kili realized for the first time that perhaps the men he had killed had had no choice—except not to make that choice. "I hate Smaug," he said, meaning every ounce of it. "To tell people to eat their own children. They were their own future and they fed on that. Why do people do things like that to each other? There couldn't have been places worse than Erebor. Why didn't they just leave him?" 

"Smaug had a long, long history of cruelty and violence. Bombings, shootings," Fili told him. "I’m sure being under his rule made the people think he could protect them. Yet, he was the one who caused the mine collapse that killed Thorin's father and little brother." He sighed sadly. "I'm not going to lie. I'm happy he's dead." 

"He killed our granddad," Kili reformulated. He reached to take Fili's hands in his, sat on his knees and placed kisses on the knuckles. "But he didn't take you. You're here now. Things will be all right again." 

Hopping to his feet, Kili sent a few tufts of hay into the air. He moved behind Fili and started pushing the wheelchair ever so carefully in the direction of the cafeteria. Before they returned to the world of man, he paused and pecked the man on his cheek. "Can I see you later?" 

"I hope so," Fili pulled him down for one more nuzzle. "Aren't you hungry, though?" 

"Starving," admitted Kili. "That's not the kind of seeing I meant." He was certainly coming down to the cafeteria for food with Fili, already planning on asking for a sandwich with egg and parsley—a dish he was quickly becoming a fan of—for himself and to bring back to Ori. 

"You were so thin when you got here," Fili told him, caressing his cheek with one finger. "I was worried about you. It was clear you hadn't eaten well. You already look so much better. Even your skin color has changed a bit. Let's get these eggs to the cafeteria and see what's for lunch." His stomach gave a telltale growl. "Guess I'm hungry too." 

"Well, I had to physically work for my food or I wouldn't have any," Kili murmured, leaning his cheek against the other's. "You should know I plan on catching up on that. Your food is very good, and I think I've got some space left in here." He looked at his belly, which promptly rumbled. "Right, cafetaria." 

It was challenging for Fili, not to touch Kili while they were together in public. They moved through the lunch line—which was quite short since they were one of the last to go through. Kili carried Fili's tray for him and they sat at two recently vacated seats at the end of a table near the door, where Fili could roll up his wheelchair. 

Lunch was sliced summer squash and zucchini, mixed with a light sprinkling of peppers and onions. Chicken had been chopped up and added. It was delicious. Fili hadn't noticed any chickens missing from the pen, thankfully, or he might not have been able to enjoy it. 

"Hope you like it," Bombur appeared between the two of them. "It's the first meal I've helped make!" 

Fili still felt a bit nervous around the large redhead, so he smiled and nodded, and hoped Kili would take over. 

As if Kili read his mind, the brunet leaned forward and grinned in a way that brought highlights into his eyes. "You're working here now? This is amazing. Is this really chicken?" Kili recognized the taste, but the chicken he knew was stringy, straight from the bone. These cubes of white covered in golden butter crust did not resemble his mother's recipe in any way. 

He sat marveled and happy for Bombur. "So when can we finally expect that beef curry you've been talking about? And what's—" He poked a nail between his teeth, swallowed the loosened food, and gestured at the sesame seeds garnishing the dish. "Are they seeds?" 

"They had a whole carton in storage in the warehouse," Bombur explained, rolling his eyes as if the Caledonians were insane. "Thankfully, they don't seem to have gone bad. Wait until you see the crackers I can make out of them!" he chortled gleefully and patted Kili on the shoulder, shooting Fili a mistrustful look. 

"It's very good," Fili told him. "Zucchini has always been my favorite vegetable." 

"Then you're going to love my zucchini bread and muffins," Bombur assured him. "Just wait." With a satisfied smile, he left them to finish their meals. 

"He still makes me a bit nervous," Fili told him, hand unconsciously rubbing the spot where his head had hit the prison bars, "but he's a very good cook." 

Kili watched Bombur until he disappeared into the kitchen. "He means well. He cares so much for any of us that he's willing to defend us in whatever way he can." Bombur was a bit like Kili, and for once it didn't make him sad. "But I understand where you're coming from," said he, "I'd rather not be faced with an angry Bombur myself. It doesn't still hurt, does it? You know, Mom would probably say someone 'up there' wanted to teach you a lesson or something. She liked to say things like that. I think they're religious things? She wasn't though, so I don't know why she'd say that. But she always made it sound funny." 

Kili's tone made Fili wish, even more strongly, that he'd had the opportunity to really get to know his mother. Subconsciously his hand slipped across the table towards Kili, but he stopped halfway. "Having you here," Fili said, "telling me about her...it's nearly as good as being able to meet her myself. Something tells me you have a lot of her expressions and values inside you, Kili." 

"If you want to know Mom, watch Thorin," Kili grinned. "Same short fuse. They also tended to complete each other's sentences, and then pull a face at each other because they also insisted they were nothing alike." 

One look at the hand, and Kili knew this was not going to be easy. If that upset him before, now he was simply glad Fili still lived and still wanted him. 

"Well," he shrugged, "she was nicer than Uncle Thorin. Uncle Thorin was all rules, rules, rules. No fun at all, always doing his best or not at all." 

I understand why Thorin acted that way," Fili nodded. "He'd lost Thranduil, then his dad and little brother, then me and Dad. He couldn't bear to lose anyone else. After all he'd seen with the war...he didn't want to lose you and Mom. So he was hard on you, to keep you safe. I get that," he sniffed, pushing away a half-eaten plate of food. "I think," he swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand and smiled apologetically, "I need to go visit Thranduil and Legolas now." 

Kili sat back and nodded. He didn't like Fili injured, and it certainly brought out something protective when he saw him like this. "Want me to see if Ori needs any help with the children?" 

Fili nodded. He looked exhausted, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. "I wish I could just run upstairs to my room and hide," he whispered, then barked out a soft, bitter laugh. "I suppose I could crawl, if I had to." He gave Kili's hand a brief squeeze. "I'm sorry, Kili. I'm just...my foot hurts, and I'm worried about Dad and Legolas. I'm sure I'll feel better if I see them. I don't want to put you and Ori out. The kids have school until three." 

"Go," Kili encouraged him. "Ori and I, we'll be fine with the kids. I've never been in class before, you know. I might learn something. But," he nudged Fili's knee under the table, "save some time for me?" Somehow, the prospect of seeing those beautiful blue marks on Fili’s skin that people called burn scars again made everything else seem lackluster in comparison. 

Fili smiled. It barely concealed the grimace of pain that threatened to surface when Kili touched his throbbing leg. "I'd like it," he leaned in and whispered so that only Kili could hear, "if you'd sleep with me tonight. I might need help getting upstairs and into bed, but if you can help...well, I'll make it worth your while." 

"Absolutely," Kili agreed. He was eager to be sharing the same room as Fili for a night, and thought of all the things they could talk about—all the kissing they could do. As long as Legolas was nowhere in sight, and the door was locked. Kili liked that idea very much. 

Stuffing the last bit of his lunch into his mouth, he got up and gestured if Fili wanted him to help him to the infirmary. The wheelchair could be moved just by Fili, he reckoned, but Kili liked being of help, especially after noticing that Fili's knee was also sensitive and Kili had unwittingly hurt him there. 

As they traveled through the town, with the only the sound of twittering birds serenading them, Fili's tried to keep his worries at bay. His biggest concern was the ongoing pain in his leg. It was only his feet that had been injured, but now the pain was spreading, at least in his left leg, up the calf. Really good pain medications were a thing of the past. That was the reality of it. He had to grin and bear it, or maybe he'd speak to Randi about an idea. He was being a big baby about it all. If he could just get his head on straight and focus on all the work that lay ahead, he could put the pain out of his mind. It was that simple. 

He hadn't even noticed that they'd arrived at the infirmary until Kili cleared his throat. Embarrassed, because Kili had obviously said something while he'd been daydreaming, Fili blushed. "Sorry," he apologized. "I was thinking about how Caledonia is going to bounce back from all this." 

Kili snuck a peek, and kissed him quickly on the lips. "There's a lot on both our minds. Go, see your brother and your father. I'll look after the kids. I'll come to your room after dinner." 

He was grinning when he walked away backwards, his hands behind his back and a slight skip in his step. 

Fili watched Kili until he rounded the corner of a building and disappeared from sight. To think that only a week ago, he'd been going about his business—doing the same thing he did all day, day after day—and then Kili and the rest of Thorin's men appeared and upended his life. It was easy to understand why many Caledonians blamed them for the recent problems, even if it was only coincidence. 

He rolled into the medical building and ran into Randi, the exact person he'd hoped to see. "Hello," he greeted her. "Do you have a minute to talk?" 

She raised her brow and halted wiping her hands on the towel. "Hi," said she carefully. Only Dr. Bombadil talked to her and really got away with it, now that the largest crisis seemed averted. To be fair, most of the others didn't like looking at her anyway, and when they did, their eyes always returned to the studded bits of metal in her neck and temples. "Are you looking for someone?" 

"Well, _you_ , first and foremost," he smiled. "I was hoping you could update me on how my father and brother are doing. But first, have you been fed? And you look really tired." 

She laughed then, tired and almost broken and for once showing it, and ran a hand through her hair. Randi would have been a beautiful woman if she hadn't grown up an Orc. She still was, but only to those who were able to see past it, and to do so was a difficult thing. Only if one caught her smile. Randi had little reason to smile. "There hasn't been time. As you can see, people need me to stay awake and present." 

"You also need to eat and sleep," Fili reminded her of the obvious. "I'm sure Tom and Oin are grateful you're here helping. But everyone gets a break, Randi. I could go to the cafeteria and get you some food. Then, you could sleep at my house. All the beds are empty. My family's all here." 

She eyed him with mistrust. "What's in it for you?" 

Fili sighed tiredly. "I realize that you come from a bad place with bad people, Randi, but you aren't there anymore. We're a close-knit community here. We help each other. You do your part, you get taken care of. You saved lives last night. You get fed. It's a pretty simple concept. " 

When he realized his words had come out harsher than he'd intended, he followed up with, "I'm sorry. I didn't want to sound mean just then. I didn't sleep much and I'm worried about my family. Food is yours, if you want it. I'll go with you to the cafeteria, if you're nervous about going alone. It's the least I can do." 

He could tell she was reluctant, but that her body was protesting against her mind's decision. Finally she gave in. She hadn't eaten in days—nobody would think less of her. "You have a cafeteria." It was so unfair. She had worked all her life for food, and here it was being served for her. Randi tipped her head. If they had a place like that, then maybe... 

"Do you have eggs?" 

"We have eggs every day," he smiled. "You'll be sick of them soon. We eat in the cafeteria of the school that was part of this town. Not all the classrooms are used for education anymore. In fact, I imagine you'll be living in one of them soon." He yanked his head in the direction of the door and started turning his wheelchair around. His father and Legolas could wait until after Randi had been fed and found a place to sleep. 

She followed him with hands folded before her lap. "You speak kind words. You must understand that this is uncommon for us. We don't ask. Never. Nor do we accept kindness, because there's always something else at stake." 

Yet curiosity moved her to follow the path that Fili made. "My brother, Mil...well, I'm sure you've heard of him, he has a kid here. He is worried about the boy. Is he all right? Will he be?" 

"Max?" Fili smiled. "Max will be just fine. You all will, provided you're willing to work with us. All we ask is that you try to fit in. Use your skills. Learn some if you don't have any. There are too few people left in the world for you to be living like you were. I'm sorry," he apologized, "for what your life was like in Erebor. No one should live like that." 

She snorted. Erebor had drilled it into her since she was a little kid; sentimentality was weakness. Funny how these people who so readily displayed weakness had thrived better than those in Erebor had. 

Following Fili into the cafeteria, she halted upon reaching it. The food before her was practically a banquet. There were several kinds of meat—in shapes that hardly resembled meat—and vegetables. There was even milk. She had heard of milk, a long time ago. "And none of this comes from children?" she had to ask, for it seemed too good to be true. 

Fili's breath hitched, the question shocking. "No," he assured her gently. "We raise cows, pigs and chickens. I'll show you after you've eaten and rested. Figwit!" He called to the dark-haired man who seemed ready to dis-assemble the serving line. "This is Randi. She saved Thranduil's life last night and she's really tired. Can you put together a meal for her—to go? She's been on her feet a long time." 

Figwit eyed Randi as if he didn't know what to do. She could see that he was torn between prejudice and gratitude, and because she knew how explosive situations could become when people weren't sure about themselves, Randi bowed her head to avoid his gaze. "Just something easy," she muttered, not having a clue that the man opposite her would not do anything to her after she had saved Thranduil. "I'm happy with anything right now." 

"Thranduil is my cousin," Figwit told her, reaching for a bowl. "He took me in after the war—after I'd lost everything. I know what it's like to have nothing." He filled the bowl with chicken, rice and vegetables. "You can bring back the bowl anytime," he said, handing it to her. "I hope you like it. Chef Bombur made it." 

Fili smiled at him gratefully. Figwit nodded and bustled back to the kitchen. 


	26. A Thief Stealing Away Another Man's Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is laid bare. Caledonia starts on the road for recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the next-to-last chapter of our dystopian saga. 
> 
> BlueMonkey has seen BOFTA and Thorny has not... needless to say, we are in a no-spoilers zone.

At the food before her, Randi stood baffled, not for the first time. She needed the smell of decent food to realize how hungry she really was, and she knew she couldn't wait long enough to take the bowl somewhere else. Her hand delved into the rice, took a large handful out, and stuffed it in her mouth. "...Oh," she breathed out, her eyes filling with tears—which she quickly smudged away—"This..."

Fili felt tears of sympathy come into his own eyes. "Walk with me," he beckoned. "You can wash up after at my house. We have plenty of empty beds right now. And couches. You can get a proper sleep." Knowing Randi wouldn't be comfortable eating with so many Caledonians around, he began rolling the wheelchair in the direction of the door.

She followed him soundlessly, all the while continuing to eat her food with her hands—and looking for all the world as if it were the most natural thing to do. Randi didn't look up when they entered Thranduil's house—though she might have paid more attention to it if she wasn't occupied with food. She didn't quite understand this young man's effort to make her feel comfortable, and it crossed her mind that perhaps men expressed their interest in a woman differently here. 

Be that as it may, it didn't distract her from her meal. "You know," she said finally, "this grainy stuff is pretty good. If you keep giving me this, I think I'll definitely stay. That's what you're after, right? Dr. Bombadil is good at what he does, but he's just one person. You need more healers."

"I'm not going to lie; your experience as a healer is certainly of use to us," Fili told her, "but we'd let you stay, even if you wanted to help me tend the chickens," he chuckled. "It's rice, by the way… that grainy stuff. We grow it down by the lake. Since you're an herbalist, maybe we can set up a plot where you can grow some. It would certainly be of value to Caledonia. And we'll absolutely continue to feed you."

"That's how you people work, then? You all contribute, and that's it?" Randi smiled. "I used to read books when I was younger. There's a book I recall about this thing called communism. The way you live sounds an awful lot like communism." She said it without malice, for she believed that at the heart of it, communism was not a bad thing. It was just that—like all things—good intentions were eventually corrupted in the hands of men.

A yawn pushed past her defenses, the energy from her food starting to kick in. "You're a kind man," she said. "If there's anything I can do for you..."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Fili shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair. "You know what? Never mind. You should be resting. This is the home of the man you stitched up last night. It's my home as well. You can sleep here on this couch if you want, but you can also use the bathrooms and get cleaned up. I'm guessing you didn't have a chance to bring any clothing with you when you fled Erebor. We'll see what we can do about getting you some. In the meantime, make yourself at home, and sleep as long as you like. I need to go see my family."

Fili marveled at this girl—this woman—who knew so little about what it meant to live in a civilized way. It broke his heart, and he felt compelled to makes amends for all the years of discomfort she had had to live through.

"I'll come back to check on you soon," promised he. He really wanted to have her take a look at his sore foot, but he figured Tom and Oin would be at the infirmary. Randi looked exhausted. "If you wake and can't find anyone, I'm sure no one would complain if you returned to the infirmary. Later, I'll show you the hot springs. You'll really like it there, I think. I'm sure Tauriel can find you something to wear."

"Ah, right." She grinned. "I know Mil loves her and all, but I just...don't have anything in common with her."

"Of course you do," Fili told her. "You have _Mil._ And you're going to love your nephew. I promise. Get some rest, all right?" he encouraged. "I'll see you in a bit."

With a wave, he rolled out over the bump of the front door sill, and down the gently curving sidewalk to the path. _At least my arms are getting a workout, _he thought to himself, shivering despite the warm sun.__

__When he arrived at the infirmary, both his father and brother appeared to be asleep. Ori sat next to Dwalin's bed at the other end of the ward. The two appeared to be playing cards._ _

__Fili rolled his chair in between the two beds belonging to Legolas and Thranduil._ _

__Of the two, Thranduil looked the worse for wear. He was slowly getting better from the deathly pale and emaciated man he had been upon being brought in, but he had a long way to go. His neck was in bandages and his breathing rasped like something was stuck in his throat._ _

__Legolas' injuries were no better, except that the night's rest seemed to be doing him some good. He said in a whisper, "Brother, if you want to talk to him, talk to him later. He's only just asleep. He's much worse awake."_ _

__Fili rolled closer to Thranduil's bed and took his father's hand in his own. It was terribly cold. Or maybe Fili was terribly warm. He couldn't tell. "Is he going to live, Legolas?" Fili asked, eyes ready to spill. "I—I can't lose another father."_ _

__"He's a fighter," Legolas replied. "I don't think he could give up if he thought he wanted to."_ _

__"I hope not, because I'm hanging on by a thread," Fili admitted. He knew Legolas wasn't the type to show or appreciate weakness, but he needed someone to talk to. "The past week has been...well, it's been exhausting."_ _

__A gurgle passed for a laugh from the other blond. "Tell me about it. I don't usually get stabbed by insane men and end up in the sick ward looking like this. I think this is the first time I've been here since I broke my toe. We really need to do something about the food here, Fee. It's dreadful."_ _

__Fili chuckled. "Very funny. It's the same food the rest of us get. And Bombur actually did a really good job today...at least, I thought so." He grew quiet. "I'm really tired," he told his brother. "I let Randi go to our house and sleep. I wanted you to know that in case you get released and find her there. Please be nice to her. She saved Dad's life."_ _

__Prone on the bed and without anywhere to go, Legolas scowled. "You let _one of them_ into the house?" Fili was lucky that Legolas couldn't move, or he would have gotten up and done something about it. An Orc in their home. What if that had been their plan all along? She had earned their trust easily and over the span of less than a day. "Go. See what she's doing. And don't you dare tell Dad about this."_ _

__Too tired to argue, Fili simply told him, "No," much to the surprised look on Legolas' face. "She's sleeping. She spent the night patching up our people. Leave her be, Legolas."_ _

__"She's in our house!" Legolas hissed, trying not to wake up their father. "Fine! Get me in that chair of yours, and I'll see to it myself."_ _

__Fili shook his head. "I didn't come here to fight. Let it go. Get some rest."_ _

__His brother scoffed at that. "But you let her into our house."_ _

__All the stress of this knowledge wasn't doing much good for Legolas' situation. He breathed in and out, trying to control his heartbeat from too much excitement. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be resting?"_ _

__"I _am_ resting," Fili told him. "I'm sitting, at the very least. Someone's got to keep an eye on things, don't they? Keep the peace? It's the least I can do until Dad's up on his feet again."_ _

__"Well, lie down," said his brother, his voice weak himself. "You shouldn't have gone, well, wherever it is that you've been." He smiled at him. Things would be alright, Legolas meant to say. Smaug was dead. Things would be all right._ _

__Fili looked around. All the beds were in use. "I..." he began, "I should be at the school, Legolas. And I couldn't reach all the chicken nests. I had to have help. I feel so helpless," he said quietly. "I think I'll just sit here with you and Dad for a while, if that's okay."_ _

__Without words, Legolas made room for him. He waited for Fili to make his way into bed. They had spent plenty of time in the same bed when they were kids, until each got his own room, and Fili looked like he needed it now._ _

__"Are you sure?" Fili eyed the empty spot covetously. He knew he wasn't supposed to be walking, but he really wanted to lie down. The foot that was giving him less pain was the one he stepped on—only briefly—to help himself out of the wheelchair and into bed next to Legolas. "I'm so tired," he confessed, reaching for the covers and trying not to jar his brother's injury._ _

__He stole one last look over at Thranduil before laying his head down on the pillow next to Legolas._ _

__Fili fell asleep in seconds. He missed Legolas' fond smile and the arms that wrapped around him for warmth. He missed that together they made the picture of a small, broken family that was not to be disturbed._ _

__And they weren't disturbed for a long time. Bilbo, when he found them, made sure of that.__

 _ _\- - - - -__

 _ _When Thranduil woke some time later, the windows left no more light in. He had slept the day away. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done that. But then a pulling ache in his throat reminded him why he'd done it. He bit back a groan and raised himself up on one elbow to check on his son. What he saw instead were both his sons sleeping in one bed—a sight he hadn't seen in well over eighteen years. It warmed his heart._ _

__His bladder shouted at him to be emptied, so he pulled himself to a sitting position with a groan._ _

__"Good evening," a kind voice said from the edge of his periphery. Bilbo made sure to give Thranduil time to get used to his presence. "Would you like medicine? Ori has just started his round. I could ask him for you."_ _

__"In due time," Thranduil assured him. "Right now I need to get to the," he waved his hand in the general direction of the facility's bathroom, embarrassed at having to admit this to Thorin's farmer friend, "you know." He knew he looked a fright. Unsteadily he stood, carefully testing his legs._ _

__Being able to empty his bladder was heavenly, but the hospital mirror confirmed his concerns about his appearance. A white bandage wrapped halfway around his throat. He vaguely remembered that strange Orc woman stitching him up._ _

__His stomach gave a growl and he returned to the ward, where Bilbo sat waiting. "Have they spoken? Are they all right?"_ _

__"Have who spoken?" Bilbo asked with the patience of a man who had time on his side. He folded his hands. "When I came here, almost everyone was still asleep."_ _

__"My sons," Thranduil told the curly haired man, voice cracking. He raised his elegant hand to touch the bandage. "How are they faring?"_ _

__Bilbo bowed his head and smiled. "Very much asleep, those two. And good for that, too. They look like they need it." He looked over at Fili, who slept curled up into the warmth of his brother, and a wistful glance crossed his features. "Many things have changed, haven't they? We were supposed to go to Erebor. Here Erebor has come to us. And no garden or arable land, but I think, I just think that things will be all right. In the meantime," he pointed at the wound, "that looks like it'll take some time to heal."_ _

__"It's not such a bad wound," Thranduil insisted. "It's just in a bad spot. I'm lucky to be alive. Lucky to have my sons, and...and Thorin, of course." The sooner he learned to speak of it, the sooner the people of Caledonia would come to accept it. "You've grown fond of Fili, haven't you?" he asked Bilbo._ _

__"As fond as you are of Thorin." Because the short man had not missed that. Several people had started to gossip, especially because Thranduil had been rather vocal about disliking and distrusting Thorin greatly during the first days of their stay. He placed a hand on the back of Thranduil's and patted it twice. "He might just be a reason for me to stay."_ _

__"He would be a very good reason to stay, Baggins," Thranduil agreed. "But I think you may have quite an uphill battle ahead of you if you seek his affections. It might be that someone has already stolen his heart."_ _

__Bilbo hampered and sputtered. "Kili is his brother. Surely that's a fine reason that he wants to be around him. I can assure you—and I shouldn't be telling his dad of all people, but here we are. I don't think what I feel for him is brotherly."_ _

__"And I cannot be certain that what Kili and Fili feel for one another is brotherly, either," Thranduil told him, wondering where the farmer had put two and two together. "I don't feel it'd be an easy road for them, but then Fili has never been known to choose easy paths. But you're right. It could just be the blush of having discovered one another. They may just find their rhythm as brothers yet. Don't give up hope. You're a good man, Baggins. He'd be lucky to have you. You come from a place few would be eager to leave."_ _

__This response heartened Bilbo, and he nodded with increased faith. "I'll be here for him. Who knows, he might notice me around …some day." He folded his hands in his lap and glanced at Fili, who was still fast asleep. Bilbo felt a surge of protectiveness. "If there is anything I can do for you or your family," he offered, "you need only ask. Even if it's just checking up on Thorin to assure you he isn't doing anything stupid yet again."_ _

__An involuntary chuckle escaped Thranduil. "Seems you've got him figured out already. He does seem overbearing and passionate about what he wants—but that's what I find so appealing about him. I look forward to learning from you, Bilbo. Are you comfortable teaching our new allies from the Erebor camp?"_ _

__"If they don't try to kidnap me again. Sure." Bilbo and Thranduil shared a look that established they both thought Thorin to be impossible at times. "I don't understand what is between you. Personally, his temper drives me insane. But I'll keep that a secret until you are willing to be public about it. He's been good though. Hasn't caused a fuss since coming back. Might I ask what happened?"_ _

__"His temper is aggravating, isn't it? It's a byproduct of his passion," Thranduil said, magnanimously sweeping away years of frustration. It must have been the medication. "Erebor wasn't the way he left it. Naturally, he was very disappointed, as anyone would be to find his home not only in ruins, but inhabited by criminals and cannibals. He'll be happy here. I feel it."_ _

__Bilbo gaped at the man. "Cannibals? And, wait, hold on, those are the people you want me to teach?" His waist had to look exceptionally tasty to cannibals. They would probably snack on his fingers, like meaty chicken drumsticks. Bilbo was paling considerably._ _

__"It was only by necessity," Thranduil assured him. "They had no other choice."_ _

__He quieted a moment as Legolas shifted in his sleep and let out a whimper of pain._ _

__"I can't give you a hundred percent assurance that our new arrivals are going to all be model citizens," Thranduil continued. "But Fili negotiated terms with them. I cannot take that away, now that it's been agreed upon. I do have my reservations," he admitted. "But I too have been known to be hard-headed when it comes to diplomacy. Maybe it's time for Fili's ideas to bloom."_ _

__He could tell that Bilbo hadn't considered it that way. "I can't say I trust these new people," admitted Bilbo at length, "but I trust Fili." The way he smiled up at Thranduil then was telltale of his previously unperturbed life. Bilbo had grown up in safety and, despite recent hardship, still believed in the good of mankind. He was nothing like the rest of his company. He was a little like Kili, whose companionship Fili seemed to have chosen, but less naive, and more of a pacifist._ _

__Thranduil shook it off. He had no right to pick sides when it was also a matter of the heart._ _

__"Well," Bilbo said. He patted his knees and stood up. "I am dying for some soup. How about it?"_ _

__Fili had awakened when he first heard his father's voice. Facing away from the conversing men, feigning sleep, he listened in silence._ _

__Bilbo cared for him. Of that he had no doubt. And Bilbo was a good man. If he were to choose to try to make a life with him, he felt certain he wouldn't be disappointed. Was his attraction to Kili what Thranduil suspected—simply joy at discovering that he had a brother? Was it so irrational and fleeting? Was he going to put both himself and Kili through a world of hurt by trying to nurture their budding relationship?_ _

__Again he was flooded with the urge to simply pack his things and run away from it all. But he could not do even that. Not right now. He had to stay in Caledonia and face up to the changes he'd brought about. He had to ensure Azog's people upheld their promises, and keep angry Caledonians from undermining the peace accord._ _

__He had his uncle back. He had Kili—his brother, his...well, probably more than that. Thranduil and Legolas had survived the attack by Smaug. He had Bilbo who, at the very least, would be a great friend. He had the kids. Heck, he had the chickens. He was lucky. He was so very lucky._ _

__With a dramatic sigh, he rolled over, mindful of Legolas, and yawned. "I'm hungry too," he told Bilbo, meeting his eye. "But first, I really need to do something about my breath."_ _

__Thranduil sighed with mock drama. "Who cares about your breath?" He winked at Bilbo once before finding rest in his bed again, his breathing calm, though not evening out. "You're in a hospital. Leave those feet to rest for a while. Nobody is here to judge you on your breath. If they are, let them see what they think of mine." Simply swallowing was already painful for Thranduil; he did not intend to do anything more than necessary to ensure faster recovery._ _

__He also intently distracted Bilbo from wondering if Fili had been awake all along. "Fetch me a bowl too?" he asked._ _

__"Right," nodded Bilbo, who suddenly had something to do. "A minute?" And off he was._ _

__Thranduil closed his eyes. "You know, don't you? I can tell that you do."_ _

__Fili bit his lip. "Of course I know. I do like him, Dad. I like him a lot."_ _

__"But you want your brother." The last words were said as quietly as Thranduil could, for discretion's sake. "Thorin and I figured it out, Fee. I want you to know you can speak openly with me."_ _

__Fili swallowed thickly. "This isn't something I should speak of with you, Dad. It's not something I should speak of at all. I shouldn't even be _thinking_ about it."_ _

__"But it happened," replied Thranduil. "At the risk of sounding like meddling parents, Thorin and I do not judge you or Kili for it. If you want him, then follow your heart. I should hardly tell you how to follow your heart, seeing that you've always done just that."_ _

__"We have kissed," Fili told him. "That is all. And if you advise me that I should end it at that, I will. I don't want to bring you any shame. I don't want to have to hide my love away from the world."_ _

__"Then you must not truly love him," sighed his father, who could only think of how much he had yearned to be with Thorin over the past decade. Nobody could have told him to break it off—only Thorin not returning to him had forced Thranduil to look elsewhere. His heart had never found anyone like the man. "If you can say something like that after having kissed him, he is not the one."_ _

__Fili's eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me how I feel about him!" he said with uncharacteristic menace in his voice. "I only want to spare him pain. His life hasn't been as fortunate as mine."_ _

__Thranduil had only seen Fili like that on a few occasions. He thought wisely about what to say next, then replied with a casual tone, "I notice that his friend is very fond of him. The one who knits. Do you think he could make Kili happy?"_ _

__"Ori is a good man," Fili said immediately, peeking over at the redhead, who was oblivious to their conversation. And he meant it. "Kili couldn't wish for anyone who'd love him more." He sighed. "You loved your wife, didn't you?"_ _

__"Always second to someone else," admitted his father. "Don't tell Legolas. I did love her, you see, but differently. She was a good woman. If she had asked me to give up Thorin, I still would not have stopped loving him. To be with him, I would do everything I could, except force him. Do you think you could bear it, to watch Kili with this Ori? To watch as he kisses someone else, falls into bed with someone who is not you? Could you do that and be happy?"_ _

__Across the room, Ori threw back his head and laughed merrily at something Dwalin said._ _

__"No," Fili whispered. "I—I couldn't bear it. But he needs to know there's more than me to choose from. He's met so few people. He needs to find happiness. And I'm his brother. Thorin is not your brother, Dad."_ _

__"The way I see it, the choice is yours." Tilting his head with effort, Thranduil looked at Fili. "I consider you my son, but you're not biologically mine. Kili is your brother, but you did not grow up with him. What you do with your kinship is your own decision. Perhaps you give him space. If you love him, and he loves you, you'll find each other again, trust me on that."_ _

__He lay back then, and breathed out. "I shouldn't speak so much. Talk to Thorin if you want someone's opinion, Fee. Mr. Bilbo is taking an awfully long time with that soup."_ _

__"I'm sorry to trouble you with this," Fili told him, trying in vain to get his hair under control. "You're really the only person I thought might be able to understand. I just don't want him to go away, Dad. And I need Legolas to understand that Kili isn't going to replace him."_ _

__"Go away?" That prompted Thranduil to continue speaking. Kili went where Thorin went, didn't he? "To Erebor? After all that has happened?"_ _

__"He's afraid the Orcs won't trust him, since he killed so many of the raiders last night." Fili finally ended up gathering his hair into one long ponytail and tied it off smartly. "He's afraid too many people here in Caledonia will consider him an outsider—that all this trouble began when Thorin and his lot showed up. We need to convince them otherwise. But you should be resting, Dad. Bilbo will be back soon."_ _

__Thranduil closed his eyes. Kili wanted to leave, not Thorin. That idea didn't put him at ease however, because what was to say Thorin wouldn't miss Kili enough to follow him? If Fili was like a son to Thranduil, then Kili was a son to Thorin. "Just remember that love is never a tool to bind someone, Son. Be honest with yourself and the people around you, even if there isn't always a nice way to tell them."_ _

__Just then Bilbo padded back into the ward, carrying in his hands two bowls, and none the wiser about the conversation that had just taken place._ _

__"Thank you," Fili smiled when Bilbo handed over the warm bowl. "Do you need help with yours, Dad?"_ _

__"I'll do it," Bilbo said at once. "Have yours." He patiently sat down next to Thranduil, held up a spoon and waited for a sign. He liked having something to do. All of this had started when men had tried to kidnap him, and though that didn't hamper him morally, he felt like he owed it to make life easier for those who had ended up injured afterward._ _

__None of them spoke while they ate. Bilbo was content to help, and Fili and Thranduil seemed hungry enough to him to not disrupt their appetite with pointless chatter. He also collected the bowls quietly, then scraped his throat. "I uh, I should probably tell you that Dr. Bombadil laced your soup with a muscle relaxant. Sorry."_ _

__"Both of us?" Fili's head shot up, and he instantly regretted the motion as the room waved around him. "Why would he do that?_ _

__"Because, he says, you're both horrible patients who won't lie still." And the gardener had to agree. "But look on the bright side; I can be here all night if you need anything. Do you need anything?"_ _

__"I need to stay awake," Fili pouted._ _

__Thranduil chuckled warmly. "You need to heal," he told him._ _

__"But I slept the afternoon away," Fili argued, a yawn splitting his face. "I promised Kili I'd see him tonight."_ _

__Bilbo looked guilty at that. "Perhaps I can bring him here?" offered he. Sure enough, Kili was the one Fili wanted, but Bilbo was not vindictive and he wasn't going to attempt to pull them apart. "It's probably not the same, but you do need to rest, and you don't look like you are. If I knew, I would have asked the doctor to use it tomorrow."_ _

__"No, no, you're right," Fili admitted. "I should be resting. I'll never heal if I don't. It's just...my mind's going a mile a minute. I can't get it to," he yawned again, "to shut off. Kili is at my house. So is Randi, so don't be alarmed. She needed a place to sleep. But if you could just tell Kili that Tom drugged me, I'd appreciate it."_ _

__Fili didn't want to make a big deal out of it, especially with Bilbo. He was livid at Tom for ruining his plans with Kili. But maybe, he thought—snuggling back down next to Legolas—it was all for the best._ _

__"Randi the medic? Oh, Don't tell that to Legolas either," came a grainy chuckle, then a groan. Thranduil was stressing his voice when he shouldn't. He offered Bilbo an apologetic and understanding smile, then vowed to keep quiet. Even after hearing that Fili had agreed to meet Kili in their house while both Thranduil and Legolas were incapacitated. He frowned. No, better not to comment on that._ _

__Bilbo took it all in stride. He wriggled his nose, made a decision, then smiled at Fili. "Get a good night's rest. I'll make sure he hears about it."_ _

__And promptly he was off to find Kili.__

 _ _\- - - - - -__

 _ _Randi did not stir when Kili entered Thranduil's house. He might not have even known she was there at all, except for her soft snoring. She was pretty, he realized, when her defenses were down and her expression smoothed over in sleep._ _

__He knew it was unlikely that Fili would have gone upstairs, but Kili realized that now was the perfect time for him to slip into Fili's bedroom and snoop around. Of course, he never would have admitted it was snooping. _Looking at his things._ Yes, that was it. He was simply hoping to learn more._ _

__The brunet climbed the stairs, surprised to see a light under Fili's bedroom door. Hope welled in his chest. He knocked softly on the door and was met by a surprised gasp._ _

__"Come in?" the voice bade. It wasn't Fili. Bilbo sat on Fili's bed instead. In his hands was what appeared to be a journal. Kili recognized it instantly because his mother had been so obsessive about her own. "Oh...Kili. I thought you might be Fili coming back. I didn't want him to catch me reading this."_ _

__"...You're reading it in his room," Kili pointed out. For the first time, he wasn't sure what to think about Bilbo's actions. The generally carefree man was reading something private, something that was potentially about himself. While Kili wanted to read it too, he'd much rather that Bilbo didn't. "Can you please put that away? Where is he anyway? And why are you here?"_ _

__When Kili got closer to Bilbo, he noticed that his eyes were wet with unshed tears. The curly haired man closed the journal, leaving a finger to mark his place._ _

__"You're right," he told Kili. "You don't want to read this. I wish I hadn't."_ _

__That struck Kili as odd. Fili's diary couldn't be that bad that it had Bilbo crying, right? And that play of words...it only made him more curious about what had been written there. He sat down on the floor in front of Bilbo. "Did something happen to him? What is it?"_ _

_Some men passed through the woods today, wanting to go to Erebor,_ the entry had read. _As usual, Dad sent me and Legolas out to greet them with some of the other soldiers. But this time was different. They attacked and I got knocked out._

__While the entry proceeded to tell about how Fili was reunited with his brother, coupled with some speculation about his father and Thorin's torrid past, what stuck with Bilbo most was one bit in particular._ _

_They have someone with them who avoided capture by hiding inside the wagon. I still don't know how he did it. I found him when I was loading up their belongings. He's different from the rest of them. His eyes twinkle all the time, like he knows a really special secret that he's not quite ready to share. He's awkward and funny, and I can tell he's very smart. He's a farmer, not a fighter. Even his name is unusual. Bilbo. Bilbo Baggins. While we were talking, I felt something I've never felt before. It's that tremble in your stomach that Legolas says he feels when he's around Tauriel. He's not what anyone would consider traditionally handsome, but I think I might actually desire him. Not that it matters now. I nearly killed him by offering him moldy tobacco from the warehouse and he's recovering in the infirmary._

__Bilbo smiled gently at Kili. "You're brother's fine. He's in the medical bay. Dr. Bombadil slipped something into his soup so he would sleep. He wanted me to let you know," he sighed mournfully. "He regrets that he's not here to see you." He sat the journal aside. "You're right. I should not have read this. It was just sitting there, though, _out in the open._ And I needed to know..."_ _

__"Oh." There was a crackle of tension between them. Kili didn't understand where it came from, and he tried to pretend it didn't exist. Disappointed, he shifted on the floor. Fili wasn't coming. He really needed him. Kili's day had not been easy, and he had been looking forward to time with Fili through it all._ _

__"What did you need to know?" asked he, because what else could Kili say to that? Bilbo certainly had him confused._ _

__"I needed to know," Bilbo primly stood and straightened his suspenders, "that he'd be all right once I've gone back to Bag End. And, it's clear he's in good hands. That's right, isn't it, Kili?"_ _

__"What? No, you can't! We've only just gotten Erebor free. We need you to help. You're our best gardener. I've heard about what you did for Fili; the flower nobody knew about except for you. You can't go, Bilbo." Kili's lip trembled. "We need you."_ _

__"The gardens and farms here are perfectly adequate," Bilbo informed him of the obvious. "And that Orc medic, Randi? She knows all the herbs. Probably better than I do. The best thing I could do for Caledonia would be to return to Bag End. I could pack up a few cuttings of different plants and bring them back to you, if that might help. But there's nothing I'm needed for here, is there?"_ _

__"Do you miss it that much?" Kili bit his lip. "Is it still home for you?"_ _

__"It will always be home, and I do miss it," Bilbo told him. "But I think my work is done here. I was brought along to help farm Erebor. The land simply isn't arable. Not yet. I can do no more here."_ _

__"But that isn't true. If there's work for the Orcs, why wouldn't there be work for you?" Kili looked tentatively up at Bilbo. If he had heard of the concept of puppy eyes, he'd know he was applying them quite blatantly now. "You're family to me."_ _

__"No, I'm not," Bilbo said, but not unkindly. "I'm just a farmer. Fili is your family—and Thorin."_ _

__Kili became defensive. "You're not _just a farmer_. That's stupid. You may not be actual family, but you feel that way to me. At least a friend. Don't go, Bilbo. Fili would miss you a lot, too."_ _

__Bilbo swallowed thickly. "And I, him. He's a good man, Kili. You're very lucky he's chosen you."_ _

_I met my brother, Kili, today. I never thought it would happen, as Dad told me that my family was all dead. At first, I honestly thought Kili was some sort of savage. His clothing was patched and worn, and it seemed as if he hadn't washed his hair in years. But then I took a good look at him and saw the most beautiful brown eyes, so filled with wonder for all the new people and things he was seeing. His voice is gentle, like rain on the roof of the chicken run. I hope he'll stay so we can make up for lost time._

__"I'll wait a few more days," Bilbo told him. "And then Clover and I are heading back home."_ _

_I kissed Kili tonight. I'm an idiot. But he wanted me to. And neither of us is sorry. What am I doing? How can I be having these thoughts about my brother?_

__"Heaven knows my gardens must be a mess."_ _

__Kili sat up on his knees and looked at Bilbo closely. "There is something you're not telling me. _Chosen_ me? Between me and whom? How do you even know about that? I don't believe you really want to be going back home, Bilbo, or if you do, then you're not telling me all of the reason. Is it—does it upset you? That I like my brother? I don't—I don't have a clue how these things are done, Bilbo. Please, if it's something I did...tell me, so I can make it right."_ _

__"Love is love, Kili," Bilbo shrugged. "We can't control who we love, can we? I just want him to be happy. That's all. You just need to promise me that you'll make him happy."_ _

__"...You love him!" Kili exclaimed. He immediately clapped a hand before his mouth. Bilbo, kind Bilbo, was suddenly someone who could take Fili away from him. Who had—_ _

__Oh god._ _

__—had woken up in the same bed as him._ _

__"Please don't," Kili whispered._ _

__"Don't love him?" Bilbo chuckled. "Believe me, I've tried. I hope now you can understand why I really need to leave, Kili. And why it's in your best interest not to talk me out of it."_ _

__"But..." But only then did Kili understand that Bilbo was not a threat, unless Kili allowed him to be. Fili wanted Kili. He said the only thing he could still say, his head bent apologetically. "I'm sorry."_ _

__"I am too, Kili," the other man said. "But you belong here, with your uncle and your...Fili. I belong in my home, with my tomatoes and grapes. I'm sure I'll swing back and visit Caledonia some day," he assured him. "I want you to promise me that you'll—that you'll _appreciate_ him. His kindness and his eccentricities."_ _

__Kili nodded his head immediately. "Every day. There won't be a day I will take him for granted, I promise you. I couldn't. He deserves the world, Bilbo. You know he does. But if you feel like you must go, at least let me come and visit you some time. Uncle didn't give us the time to get to know Bag End last time." He tried for a smile._ _

__Suddenly Kili felt like a thief stealing away another man's happiness._ _

__"You needn't worry about me, Kili," Bilbo took one last look around a room he knew he'd never seen the inside of again. "I have been on my own all my life. No hardship in prolonging it a bit more, is there? I have a warm home, plenty of food and lots and lots of books to read. Life is good."_ _

__With a sad smile, Bilbo brushed past him out of the room._ _

__Kili could have chased him, but he stayed seated on the carpet with wide eyes and a heart hammering in his throat. He didn't know what he was feeling. Sadness mixed with bitterness and yet, hope. Relief. Then guilt for feeling that way. Bilbo was his friend._ _

__But he had come so close to losing Fili yet again._ _

__Kili didn't care. He had to see Fili at once, if only to reassure himself that things would be all right. He again wondered what the healer was doing on the couch as he passed. She seemed deeply asleep, and like she needed the rest, too. Her breathing made her chest rise and fall peacefully._ _

__It made Kili walk faster. He caught no sight of Bilbo while making it to the infirmary and the adjacent ward, walked a straight line across to Fili's bed and panted for air when he stopped to a halt in front of him. He was still there. God, nobody had taken him away. He was getting better. They would have their lives ahead of them, together. And nothing else mattered._ _

__"I love you," Kili burst into a smile, and said it for the world to hear._ _


	27. Fili Greenleaf and Kili Durin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years pass, and the effects of change in Caledonia help urge the rest of the world back to life. The more some things change, the more others stay the same.

Each year, the air grew a bit warmer. Long gone were the temperate, muggy summers Scotland used to enjoy, but it seemed that what many had dubbed _The Eternal Winter_ had finally passed them by. The land had turned green all over. Even in Erebor. 

The summer that Max turned sixteen, he was allowed to travel with Kili and Fili during their annual visit to see Bilbo in Bag End. Max was thrilled, and the brothers were happy to be going to visit their old friend. Randi, who turned out to be more than just a wizard with herbs, had figured out a way to turn cow manure—and some secret ingredients she would reveal to no one—in to a poor man's version of petrol, and they now used the four-wheelers on these visits. 

Her belly huge with her second child, she waved them goodbye along with her brother and sister-in-law.

"Will he be all right?" Tauriel wondered, idly straightening the buttons on the dress of their daughter.

"Haven't they always come back?" Mil assured her. He still sported some of the modifications that had made his countenance once threatening and alien, simply because not all of them were possible to remove. Nowadays, the effect was greatly diminished by a green overall, a decent sweater, and sturdy worker boots. Those who didn't see the marks on his arms would think him unassuming. He watched her fuss over their daughter's dress. "You know she's going to switch back to pants as soon as she comes home, right?" She was in every way her mother.

Kili looked over his shoulder and grinned. "Your mom is going to be so glad when you return," he told Max. Slivers of sun-kissed strands graced his heavy, loosely bound hair, and stubble scattered across his jaw permanently these days. But Kili did not look old; the shine in his eyes was full of life when he revved the engine and sped off after Fili. "Race you to him!" he called out to Max. "Loser gets the last night shift!"

Fili watched, smiling fondly as Max and Kili headed up the hill towards him. 

The road was well-traveled since Caledonia had established a colony and become hub of trade. The influx of people from far and wide had made Legolas' job as head of security all the more challenging. But anyone who committed a crime didn't last long in Caledonia, it was known far and wide. The place had truly become the Shangri-La that Thorin had been searching for when he had come looking for Erebor twelve years earlier.

Randi sighed in contentment as Legolas' arms circled her from behind.

"I almost can't wrap them around you," he whispered in her ear. "Our son's going to be a whopper."

"Or daughter!" she smacked him playfully. "This town needs more sensible women."

"What if it's a she and she is a little berserker?" Legolas could not help but muse. He had once thought he wouldn't be suited for fatherhood and settling down; a commander had to be flexible and ready for anything. When his life changed, it had turned out to be the most natural thing to happen. Their child had had his heart by the first kick, and had not let him go since.

Max disappeared into the distance. Kili always stayed a little behind, though not for lack of trying. Max was fearless on a squad, winding around bumps like a snake and laughing loudly. When they caught up, Kili looked exhausted. "He keeps getting better," he boasted to Fili like a proud father. Kili wasn't, of course, but Max was certainly his favorite among Fili's students. And he knew he shouldn't pick favorites.

For the duration of the ride, he continued to satellite around Fili. Kili sped forward to scout new areas off the trail, fell back, and returned to his partner exhilarated, until they neared twilight and with it the meadow where a lodge had been built in previous years for those seeking a place to sleep while on the road. Bag End was still a long journey ahead of them.

He hopped off, pulled the door open for Max with a grand gesture, and waited for Fili with his back against that door and a mischievous smile on his lips.

Fili knew that smile well by now.

"Thank god the kid has his own room!" he breathed, taking off his coat and tossing it over a handmade chair nearby. He then threw himself into Kili's arms, breathing in the scent he had come to associate with safety and passion over the past decade and more. "Finally, away from home," he grinned, kissing Kili in the hollow of his neck.

Kili drew him in without hands. He stretched his long neck, the setting sun casting its golden glow over his tan skin, then ducked in to capture Fili's lips with his own. It took little effort to maneuver him inside the house, past the small living room and to the room that was theirs for the night. If they passed Max on the way there, neither had eyes for him now. "I've missed you," said Kili. "That job at the mill shouldn't have taken you so long."

"It was simply a matter of negotiation," Fili assured him. "Everything is, these days."

When Fili was asked to visit a town or upstart factory, negotiations usually went quite smoothly. Caledonia had enjoyed so much prosperity since Fili's controversial pact with the Orcs, that other towns began to call upon him to come get them started. Once, he and Kili had been gone for two months helping a group outside London. While they were there, a group was pondering a trip to the United States in an ocean liner they were refurbishing.

It had been a tempting idea.

Fili enjoyed the time away from his home without guilt. Even though the school had swelled in numbers, Ori managed to keep the children enthralled with his never-ending tricks and surprises. Bofur too excelled with the children. The school was in good hands—and so were his beloved chickens. The coop had tripled in size since the day he and Kili had met. Thorin, who had a natural rapport with animals, oversaw all the livestock now.

When the brothers traveled, they were Fili Greenleaf and Kili Durin. Their surrounding countrymen knew them as partners only, and that made their relationship acceptable. In fact, few people in Caledonia ever truly learned about the fact that they were, indeed, brothers.

"Max is so happy to be with us," Fili whispered, his gaze worshipful. "I love how his eyes were shining. Just like yours when you first came to Caledonia."

"I think my eyes were mostly shining when they were on you," said Kili in reply without the least bit of guilt. He saw it too though; Max had always drawn pictures and read books about the wide world. He had begged his parents year after year to be allowed to come along. And the only thing stopping them had been that they were afraid Max would wander off and be bedazzled of what was out there to the point that he would not want to return. "One day, we should take him to the London South Wharf. When he's a bit older." He pulled off his shirt as soon as the door was shut and drew back onto the traveler's bed, his eyes remaining on Fili all the time. "You tired?"

"A little," Fili stretched, eyes devouring the revealed flesh. "Mostly sore from the ride. C'mere," he extended a hand to Kili.

Although Kili's intention had been to pull Fili to him, he sat up and huddled over to the front of the bed, effectively bringing him at the height of his partner's hips. The wooden bed creaked at the stress. It had not been built for much other than a night's rest.

Kili's thumb wedged between Fili's jeans and cotton shirt. His mouth followed. Kili had not lied; he had missed him sorely in the time they had been apart. Years had gone, and yet Fili still held that pull on him. He started undoing the rest of his clothing while his lips appreciated heated skin.

Fili let out a groan of pleasure and his head fell back, exposing his neck to Kili's questing mouth. He allowed Kili to undress him. He allowed Kili whatever he wanted—as per usual. The day Kili had come into Caledonia, a light had been turned on in the dark room of his life. Everything had changed, and everything since had been an adventure. They were well familiar with one another's bodies now, what caused pleasure, and which maneuvers delivered the final passionate blow. 

"What shall it be tonight?" he wondered softly. "We don't want Max to hear." 

Kili hummed until they were both fully naked. He tossed the abandoned clothing into a pile in the corner and drank in the sight of Fili's muscular body. "It's no fun if I'd tell you that."

Both of them were skilled at remaining quiet—and both of them considered it a sport to try and coax the other into making sounds regardless. And so Kili's nails raked against the skin of Fili's thighs in a decidedly tickling fashion, while at the same time offering him a flush nip at the head of his arousal. He was fond of driving Fili insane with dual sensations.

"Don't tease, Kee," Fili gasped. "It's been so long. Now's a bad time to do that." He reached for his lover's dark hair, grasping it gently. "I want you," he whispered. "God, I want you so much it's killing me."

"I'm right here," said Kili. He moved his hand away to give Fili some relief, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. His lips slid off Fili's cock. Looking up with his chin resting just above, against his lover's lower abdomen, Kili watched with a lidded smile. He could fall into that crazy love of the first few months all over again, just looking at him.

Leisurely, his mouth again sought out Fili's arousal. With slow movements did he draw him in, and his tongue aimed to please.

Fili bit off a groan of pleasure and fisted at the homemade comforter below him. "God, Kili...that mouth of yours..." he whispered. "Want it all over me." It took everything in his power not to thrust up into that inviting heat.

Fili should not have said that, because the next moment Kili had tugged him forward and next to him on the bed. The momentum made for a sloppy fall and a sloppier response from Kili, who climbed atop him with a joyous laugh at the undignified sound. "You are amazing," he grinned, and promptly latched his plump mouth around one of his nipples. All the while Kili continued to ignore Fili's erection for the sake of tracing bumpy keloid. "And beautiful."

There was no tempering Kili when he got in one of his playful puppy moods. His tongue, lips and breath on Fili's skin left goose bumps in its wake. Head up on a pillow, Fili watched with affection as Kili worshiped his body. After all these years, Kili still found his keloids fascinating. And with that fascination, Fili had learned to stop being ashamed of them.

"I love you," Fili told him. "Love you so much, Kili."

Kili crawled up to hover above him, and kissed him gently. His buoyancy was still present, though caged for now; Kili loved Fili to the core, and although he had always made sure that Fili knew, every moment that he reinstated it was special. "I love you too, Fili," breathed he.

He took his time to draw an image of the man's body with his hands. Kili's eyes didn't leave Fili's for a long time, nipping at his lips once or twice. It was intimate in its simplicity. Kili had come a long way since he had first met his brother. They both had. From two men who had no idea how things were done, they had learned and grown.

These days, Kili taught the young children how to use the bow and set snares. He also taught them how to respect life, and why never go take a life unless necessary. He never went along on the hunt, opting to have someone else guide his class, and no longer hunted for leisure, himself. But he was happy. Just like he was happy now, in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, where they could just be _them_.

His body asked for permission to rest itself between Fili's legs, while Kili nipped at the man's neck. After so many years, Kili still asked. Few things were more beautiful than the man he loved, allowing him in.

Fili hooked one leg around Kili's waist and anchored him, enjoying the delicious friction when their arousals rubbed together. He thought back to the first time they had finally managed to be this intimate. It was weeks—nearly two months—after Smaug was killed. They were both adorably nervous and laughed through most of it. But they were deadly serious about their intentions.

"I brought lube," Fili encouraged him. "Ori and Randi came up with a new one made of aloe vera extract. It smells really— _unf,_ " he groaned as Kili licked into his mouth. The next few minutes were spent in fervent kissing until both of them had to come up for air.

By the time Kili parted from him, his lips and chin felt raw. "Where is it?" he asked. Kili didn't care about what kind of lube they had, as long as they had it. Although, that one time Randi had made them a heating potion had resulted in a few memorable moments.

He searched around, perked up when he found it and pecked Fili before reaching over to take it from his open bag.

This cool gel did not heat up as Kili attentively prepared him. "Look at you," he said, while one digit circled and then probed the entrance. There were times when he liked to create a sticky mess—not today. "I'm the luckiest man in the world."

Kili took his time to prepare Fili. He could spend hours looking at the things he did to Fili and it would not bore him. When he was sure he was ready, he licked his lips and smiled, and crooked a finger just so. He'd been waiting to do that.

"You are," Fili gasped, " _very_ lucky." The blond bucked up as sparks shot through him, his entire being focused on those talented, relentless fingers. "Going to die if you don't fuck me soon," he breathed, reaching blindly to card his fingers through Kili's hair. "Riding that bike all day, the rumbling. I was hard the entire time wishing it was you between my legs," he confessed, skin heating up with a blush.

Kili moaned. "You shouldn't say things like that." He at once shifted to realign their bodies and grabbed for a pillow to place underneath Fili's hips. Another kiss, and then he braced his weight. Kili guided himself in with his free hand.

The heat and the pressure were breathtaking, but they had only half the effect that the sound coming from Fili's throat at that moment had on Kili's desire.

"Tell me to move," panted he.

"Move," Fili panted, eyes nearly devoured by his pupils as they sought out Kili's. "Please, god, _move!_ "

Kili pressed their mouths together and kissed him with all he had left. He utterly loved him. Whatever he did to show it, it would never be enough. Pistoning his hips forward once, he brought himself in deeply and gasped. It really had been too long.

The pace was anything but steady. Kili went as fast as Fili could take it. He paid attention to the signs indicating his boundaries but, other than that, he gave as good as he got. Their skin soon became slippery, their bodies rubbing against each other at every thrust. That the bed creaked was something Kili had given up being concerned about.

He looked down at the man he loved. Dark hair clung to his face, the twilight of the day sinking into night around them. That was as poetic as it got. The rest was carnal lust, melding together in a demonstration of just how much they needed each other. And Kili was about to fall apart.

"N-not gonna last much longer," Fili clung to him, fingers digging possessively, but not painfully, into the other man's shoulder and hip. "Been too long...too..." 

And that was it. Fili arched his back and came, lightning dancing across his vision. As ashamed as he was for not lasting longer, he couldn't apologize that Kili brought him off so quickly. He had that effect on him, every time.

Kili instead focused on kissing him everywhere. A haze had gotten hold of him. The sounds of Fili coming undone—Kili had learned early that some sounds turned him on a lot—were furtive echoes with the permanence of a fleeting dream. Kili licked and pushed to get more. His loins were curling and his hips stuttering.

"Oh—" he started, stilted, then heaved in a single loud gasp and came with his face buried in the nook of his lover's neck.

As they lay together later in the candlelight, Fili fed Kili pieces of an apple and some cheese he'd sliced. "You were so skinny when we met," Fili told him. "I thought you might blow away with the next strong wind. I'm glad you didn't."

Kili chuckled. "When I met you, I was still figuring how Bombur had gotten the size he is. To be fair, he made sure we all gained some weight pretty fast, once he got down to it, didn't he?" He snatched a piece of cheese from Fili's fingers and smiled around those limbs. "I wasn't as skinny as Thranduil though."

"For what it's worth, he can really pack away the food, when he wants to," Fili informed him. "Legolas too. They're just naturally thin. And so tall," he rolled his eyes. "I always felt like a dwarf around them."

On the bed next to him, Kili snorted and kissed him. "I like you as a dwarf." He himself was taller than Fili as well—pretty much everyone was, aside from Bilbo—and he liked the way Fili tended to use that to his advantage. "Max is still growing, is he?"

"His dad's well-built and, let's be honest, Tauriel's practically an Amazon," Fili chuckled, rolling a piece of cheese between his fingers. "He's bound to gain another six inches, or more." He popped the cheese into his mouth ineloquently. "Should we check on him, you think?"

"And get dressed? Nah." Kili closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the warmth against him, his muscles pleasantly flushed after the exercise and the cool of approaching winter.

Tomorrow they would go on to see Bilbo and check up on that young nephew he kept writing them about in his letters. Perhaps in a few months, he and Fili would again be in the same bed as tonight. Perhaps it would be another bed in another hopeful colony. Whatever happened, he thought, he loved his life and all it continued to give him.

Kili curled up next to Fili and allowed himself to doze off. He kissed him sleepily against his shoulder.

"Love you."

Their mother would be proud of them.

THE END 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Blue/Thorny collaboration has come to an end. Thank you, friends, for sticking with us and continuing to support and encouraging our obsession with this wonderful cast of characters and their real life counterparts.
> 
> Our next tale, a much shorter story with a new pairing (!!) for the two of us, will begin posting Monday. Oh, and we've already started on the story after that. Stick around!


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